Black Wife 2
by FakeName13
Summary: The sequel to Black Wife. After his marriage to a human woman, Sebastian Michaelis desperately tries to get things to return to normal. He's a demon, after all. Not only that, but he's also a butler. He has a reputation. But no matter how hard he tries, his wife only seems to get more and more attractive...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

 _Warning: This story contains numerous OCs._

 _Some information may be historically inaccurate._

 _I own nothing._

 _This story is a sequel to another story,_ Black Wife _. To inform new readers (and to remind old readers), here's a brief summary of the first story:_

 _During a recent string of murders, Ciel Phantomhive meets Eleanora Black, a cynical, sarcastic maid who grew up in the criminal underworld. Realizing her potential for Phantomhive, Ciel orders his butler to get her to work for him, no matter what. After many trials and errors, Sebastian is finally forced to marry Eleanora._

 _But she isn't too willing to marry him, and so he tortures her until she accepts. She then goes on to assist the Earl in his work, and as time goes on, Sebastian finds himself becoming less and less adverse to his new wife._

 _But by a pure accident, she discovers that Sebastian is a demon, which tears them apart again. Just when things can't get any worse for their relationship, Eleanora gets a call from Jean and Rose Michaelis—Sebastian's parents._

 _It turns out that they have to get married—really, truly married—by the time the year is up. And this time, there will be no chances for divorce. They'll be together till the bitter end. All three of them—Sebastian, Eleanora, and Ciel—journey to Hell and meet Sebastian's family and prepare for the wedding._

 _The wedding day arrives and Eleanora has just walked down the aisle…_

Eleanora still vaguely remembered planning the thing. She remembered talking to the young Master about it:

 _"I don't think that marriage itself is all that bad, as long as you get married to the right person. It's just the wedding that's hell…"_

She had never spoken truer words in her life.

She knew that she was getting married to a demon, in Hell, in a Satanic church, but despite all of these many dangers, it was so. Unnaturally. _Boring_.

Rose had said that it would be long. She had been forewarned. But in all seriousness, this speech was taking an _eternity_. No wonder demons lived so long—half of their lives were wasted in actually getting married!

There were two parts to the matri verum: the legal part and the religious part. The legal part consisted of swearing to each other to divide everything equally—cats, dogs, debts—and to always remain calm in financial pressure. Boring shit like that. And, naturally, because this was an unholy ritual, everything was sung.

Eleanora scratched her ankle with her other foot. She had been standing here for half-an-hour and the priest wasn't showing any signs of stopping and she was roasting in her stupid black dress and her feet hurt from all the standing and she was still _touching_ the demon.

Sebastian Michaelis was handsome and gentlemanly—in a strange, I'll-smile-kindly-when-killing-you kind of way. She hadn't seen his reaction when she had walked down the aisle and he had seen her in her wedding dress for the first, but she assumed that he had looked bored and uninterested—just like always. Wasn't that so typical of a man? A woman slaves her ass off, trying to look decent for an event that would only last a day, and he didn't even care.

Eleanora shuffled around in her dress and fought back a small groan. The dress itself was heavy enough on its own, but she was also wearing a crinoline and a corset—both made entirely out of black metal. She shuffled again and one of her shoes slipped off and she had to clutch the demon's arm for support.

She had gone down the aisle with the Undertaker—as she had no father to give her away—and then he had handed her over to the demon, and they were still standing together with their arms linked together. She hated touching him. Even the mere _thought_ of touching him was practically unbearable. She wished that there was some kind of tactful way to get rid of him. Her arm felt itchy from being in contact with him for so long.

But _everything_ felt itchy! Wedding dresses were _not_ designed for the comfort of the bride. She wanted to scream at the priest to hurry the hell up; she wanted to go home already!

Perhaps the demon felt her discomfort. Or maybe he was just adjusting his arm. Either way, he gave her arm a small squeeze.

She looked up at him; he risked looking down at her and smiling—not one of his usual, half-demonic leers, but a real, genuine smile. Eleanora wondered what he was smiling at. Probably finding amusement at how dumb she looked. She scowled at him, even though she knew that he couldn't see her face through the veil.

She turned back to look at the priest and wondered what the demon was thinking about. Was he excited? Nervous? Bored? Or was he wondering what she looked like? There was an unholy ritual which involved the erasing of the groom's memories of his wife-to-be. He still remembered her—her name, their conversations, their unusual first marriage…But he couldn't remember details: her hair color, what her voice sounded like…Rose had said that it was to increase his sexual frustration in preparation for the honeymoon. Eleanora wondered if she could sneak a switchblade into the bedroom. For self-defense. She could marry a demon, but she'd be _damned_ if she had sex with one.

…Pun not intended.

The priest droned on for another half-hour. And then he pulled out a contract, two knives, two pens, and two inkpots and set them in front of Sebastian and Eleanora.

She knew what to do. Rose had prepared her for this.

She held out her hand and Sebastian removed her glove. Then he held out his hand and she removed his glove. Both gloves were put into a bin filled with unholy medicine. Then they took the knives; she steadied herself; and then they slashed their palms open.

Eleanora's red blood dripped into her inkpot; Sebastian's blood was black. Then they dipped the pens in their blood and signed the contract.

The priest sang for several more minutes and then he closed his book, bowed to the congregation, murmured something in Avelatani, and left.

The wedding guests applauded. Sebastian put Eleanora's glove on and she put his glove on. Immediately the medicine started to work; she could actually _feel_ her hand start to heal. Within five minutes, it was as if she had never been hurt.

The head nun then approached—the Satanic Mother—carrying a book. She set the book down, bowed, opened the book, and then began singing. Eleanora steeled herself for another hour of boredom. Her head hurt.

This was the "religion" part of the ceremony. Eleanora had actually read the translation for this speech. It was just a bunch of lovey-dovey crap, like "sharing joy and sorrow," "in sickness and in health," and a prayer for "eternal sexual energy."

Eleanora really wished that she had just made that up. But no—a third of the translation talked about bedroom intimacy. She had felt so dirty after reading it that she had bathed for five hours.

She was glad that she didn't understand the language of Hell. She probably couldn't have stood listening to a nun talk about intimacy for an hour, with so many people watching her.

Half an hour passed again. Then the Mother stepped back, Sebastian gave her arm another squeeze, and then they moved past the altar and down in front of the statues.

There were three huge statues in the church, with seven smaller statues in front of them. The three big ones were of the three major sints; the smaller ones were of the seven sints. Rose had prepared Eleanora for this one as well. They were going to stand underneath the statues while the Mother asked for their blessing. If there was some sort of sign from the statues, the marriage would be considered cursed and not allowed to take place.

Eleanora had stopped believing in miracles a _very_ long time ago. But she thought that, if such things still existed, she could really use one right now.

 _"Please say that we can't get married,"_ she prayed as they knelt in front of the statues. " _Please say that we can't get married…"_

Nothing happened. She almost swore out loud.

Then there came the simulated "test." Rose had told her about this one too: first, there would be intense winds, and then the church would fill up with water, and then sand, and during all of this, they had to hold on to each other. If they let go, it meant that the marriage would lead to nothing.

The floor before the statues began to cave in. Eleanora instinctively squeezed Sebastian's arm; he patted it and smiled at her again. When the floor had sunk several inches, the wind started.

Eleanora had never felt so grateful for the metal crinoline. Without it, she most certainly would have blown away. She felt her veil whip around and wondered if her hair would get messy. She had been forced to sit there for _hours_ while it was getting ready. She did _not_ want to go through with that again.

Eventually the wind died down and they were still holding each other's arms.

Then the floor began filling up with water…

It would have been fine if it had just been still water, but it was like standing in a whirlpool. Added to that, it was freezing cold. Eleanora couldn't feel her toes, and soon she couldn't feel her feet.

She clutched Sebastian, desperate not to get swept away. He stood firm and held her too.

Eventually the water drained away and they were still together.

Then came the sand.

First there was a blast of heat, which was so intense that it dried Eleanora out in minutes. Then the sand came like a tornado, and Eleanora was just wishing that she was dead when it suddenly died down and then there was a big downpour of black unholy water.

And when _that_ finally died away, they were still holding onto each other.

The audience cheered; Eleanora thought that she heard Jean whistle, and Sebastian was smiling and then the floor rose up again and they went back to the altar, where the Mother was beaming.

She sang a couple more prayers, touched them with the Satanic cross, and then brought out _another_ contract and the knives and things. The gloves were removed again, and then the nun brought out two shot glasses.

 _"Oh no,"_ Eleanora thought. " _Oh, no no no no…"_

The Mother gave each of them a shot glass and a knife. Sebastian slashed his palm open, poured some of his blood into the glass, and then the rest went into the inkpot. He swirled his black blood around in the glass, then spat into it.

Eleanora wanted to vomit.

But the demon wasn't finished. He somehow managed to force a tear out of his eye and that also went into the glass. Then he snapped his gloveless hand and something oozing and candy-red spilled out from one of his fingertips, and that also went into the glass.

He swirled it around some more and then looked at Eleanora expectantly.

" _Oh shit,"_ she thought, " _I'm never going to live this down."_

She cut her palm and poured her blood into the glass. She spat in it. She was even able to produce a tear. Then, because she was unable to produce whatever-the-hell the demon could, she spat again into the glass.

Then they linked their elbows and drank from each other's shot glasses.

Eleanora was dying. It tasted absolutely foul. But soon both glasses were drained and put back down on the altar and then the second contract was signed in blood, the gloves were put back on, the Mother made some closing statements, and then she said something and the audience behind them gasped expectantly.

The Mother must have known beforehand that Eleanora didn't speak Avelatani, because she grinned and whispered in English,

"You may kiss the bride."

They turned to face each other. A small part of Eleanora's brain was telling her to run…maybe there was still a chance…Maybe she could still get out of it…

But she couldn't run wearing the metal crinoline, and now he was lifting up her first veil, revealing her lips.

He paused upon seeing them; she remembered that he had forgotten what they looked like. Then he leaned in.

Eleanora closed her eyes.

 _"Whoever is listening to me now,"_ she prayed, " _please save me now. Please don't let me get married to this…thing. Please. I'll do anything. Please save me. Anyone. Please."_

And then they kissed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive, watched his butler and his maid stride down the aisle, heading for the carriage that would take them back to the Michaelis mansion. He, the Undertaker, and Sebastian's family would also take a carriage, but they would go faster than the wedded couple. Ciel wondered if Eleanora was going to be alright. He knew how much she hated Sebastian. And then he wondered if Sebastian would be alright. Eleanora could be a bit…unladylike. And that was putting it mildly.

Then he started wondering if they could possibly have a happy marriage. Sebastian had looked so shocked when Eleanora had first entered the church. Shocked and tremendously pleased. He couldn't stop sneaking glances at her during the ceremony. Maybe it wouldn't be such a disaster.

He scoffed and followed the Undertaker out of the church. That wouldn't happen in a million years. Firstly, Sebastian was demon—completely incapable of love. Secondly, Eleanora was unnaturally stubborn. If she didn't want to fall in love with someone, she would staunchly refuse to let herself. Even if she somehow did subconsciously manage to fall in love, she would never admit it to herself. Ciel didn't know who he pitied more.

Of course, the Michaelis family wasn't concerned. They were cheering and shaking hands and applauding, even though the couple had disappeared by this point. Ciel didn't understand what they were saying—they were all speaking in Avelatani, the language of Hell—but he understood enough of their body languages and smiles to realize that they were incredibly happy by the marriage. Sebastian had told him that such an occurrence like this one—all this mutual joy—was extremely rare. Vampires and demons were practically complete opposites, and the Michaelis family and the Elengede family were are war with each other more-often-than-not. But it didn't matter right now. At this moment, all feuds were set aside, all differences ignored; now was the time for celebration.

They all got into two carriages and departed for the mansion, deep in the country. It didn't take them very long to get there—that, or maybe the trip just seemed short. As soon as they arrived, everyone piled into the kitchen to make as much food as possible. Jean Michaelis—Sebastian's esteemed vampiric father—went down to the cellar with his brother and the Undertaker and all three of them returned carrying several kegs of wine. Then everyone quickly changed into more comfortable outfits, got out party supplies, and anxiously waited for Sebastian and Eleanora to return.

They arrived shortly after everything was ready. Sebastian assisted Eleanora down from the carriage and when they entered the mansion, everyone cheered and screamed and applauded and unholy champagne bottles were shaken and uncorked and everyone got soaking wet. Sebastian was kissed and hugged several hundred times, while Eleanora was just hugged (her veil would have gotten in the way of the kisses; she still hadn't taken it off). Then they were plopped down onto two thrones on a raised platform, everyone gave a speech, wine was poured out, toasts were made, then everyone started dancing.

Sebastian danced most of the dances—both demonic and vampiric—but Eleanora only danced a few. Ciel only danced twice.

Somewhere halfway through, they had dinner, then they went straight back to celebrating. The sun was already rising when it was decided that people really should be going to sleep.

A special room had been prepared for Sebastian and Eleanora. Ciel wasn't sure why they got their own room, and nobody would tell him. Sebastian had mentioned something about "intimacy," but Ciel had just thought that meant something ridiculous, like talking about feelings, which of course Sebastian didn't have. So Ciel really had no idea what they were going to be doing in that special, private room.

But he was too tired to care. He had eaten too much and had stayed up too late. He somehow managed to fumble his way out of his clothes (there was no Sebastian to undress him) and then he fell into bed. The rising sun didn't even bother him—he was asleep instantaneously.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian lay on the bed, rubbing his temples. His head really hurt from all of the music and talking and wine. He knew that he was expected to do certain things with Eleanora on this night, but he wasn't feeling up to it at the moment. And he knew that she would do many things to avoid sleeping with him at any given moment.

It was odd to forget one's wife. Remembering her was kind of like reading dialogue from a book: no form, no face; just blank, expressionless words. He wondered (for the seventy hundredth time) what she looked like. Was she pretty? He remembered that she didn't think that she was pretty. But one couldn't trust women on the subject of beauty; the prettiest ones were convinced that they were hideous and the ugly ones thought that they rivaled Helen of Troy. Then again, Sebastian thought that all women were ugly, save for his mother and his aunts.

He remembered when he was younger. His mother occasionally talked to him about marriage. He smiled when he remembered what he used to say:

 _"I'm not going to marry anyone who's not as pretty as you, Mommy!"_

And his mother would laugh and say back,

 _"One day, my darling, you're going to find someone who you're going to think is the most beautiful person in the four worlds. And it won't matter if they're not as pretty as me—not to your eyes anyway."_

Sebastian remembered doubting that. His mother had been a professional beauty queen. She still competed every now and then. He remembered that he always thought that he would also marry some kind of beauty queen. Some shy, quiet demon girl from a rich, noble family—someone nondescript and pleasantly boring who loved him undyingly and unconditionally while he would cheerfully ignore her and go about his business.

Sebastian had always thought that he would never fall in love, really. When he was younger, he would read fairy tales and sigh over the happy endings. But as he grew older, he realized just how few true princesses that was out there.

All of the beautiful, rich, young noble ladies—no matter which species they were—did everything they could to please him. They giggled, they batted their eyelashes, they agreed with everything he said…They were all unbearably dull. He couldn't stand being in their company for more than an hour. They were all the same. They said the same things, they behaved the same way; even their faces mirrored each other. Always following the same fashion trends, always reading the same cheap romance novels, always assuming that they were somehow unique in their conformity.

They were not princess, but they all thought that Sebastian was their Prince Charming.

They all thought that he would fall in love with them and sweep them off their feet. Write poetry. Play lovelorn ballads on the guitar. Visit them in the middle of the night by climbing into their windows using ivy. Absolutely none of that happened, and then it was somehow his fault. Several nobles had complained to his parents because he had apparently "broken their daughter's fragile heart." How had he broken it?...By not loving her.

He was somehow expected to fall in love with every pretty face but remain loyal to each one. He had to spend his hours pining over them, wasting away, while still being that cool, confident businessman. He had to be gentle, but only to the "woman of his dreams;" he had to treat everyone else like less than nothing. It was absolutely ridiculous and absolutely unrealistic.

Human women were exactly the same as the unholy ones. It was so odd how humans could change, but the women—no matter where they came from—were always the same. Every now and then he would meet a woman who seemed different from the others: one who didn't immediately adore his looks and then expect a character to match. Every now and then he would meet a woman who seemed genuinely interested in his personality and realized that just because he had the face of a Prince Charming didn't mean that he had the attitude of one. They were refreshing at first, but they were always so few and far-between. And then they would just become like all the other women he had met.

The first sign was jealousy. Women who got familiar with him almost always turned jealous at some point. They wanted to know where he was, who he had been with, and they didn't accept his answers.

"I had to stay late to clean up after a dinner party."

"Liar! You were flirting with that maid."

One would think that, if a woman knew him, she would also know that he had absolutely no interest in flirting with anyone, pretty or ugly, maid or master.

Then they became clingy. They always wanted to go _everywhere_ with him; do everything with him. They claimed that it was because they wanted to spend more time with him, but he knew that they just wanted to spy on him. See what he was up to. If a woman he vaguely knew greeted him, the woman that he was with would immediately sling her arm through his and glare at the other woman and loudly announce at any point some outrageous lie:

" _I'm_ his _woman_."

" _I'm_ his _girl._ "

" _I'm_ his _fiancée_."

And when he would call her out on it—later, of course—she would immediately burst into tears and wail about how he didn't love her anymore, to which he always replied that he had never loved her to begin with. Then the usual mess would start up: screaming, crying, wailing, demanding…

Sebastian had learned to avoid the sex as a whole. Always keep them at a distance. Never get too intimate with one. He was tired of always having to play the Prince Charming for a frog. He had figured that he would never get married, never fall in love. That prospect had always been appealing to him.

And then he had met Eleanora.

Eleanora Black—the bitter, distrustful maid. She was like him—the opposite sex had never impressed her, never did anything to help her; always harming her. Like him, she had kept her distance. Like him, she refused to let anyone get close to her. It could have been perfect—a man and a woman, blissfully staying out of each other's way.

And now they were married. Permanently. Forever. Till death do them part.

Sebastian groaned and pressed a pillow over his face. Eleanora had spent the last half-hour in the bathroom, taking off the wedding dress and bathing. He wondered (for the seventy-first hundredth time) what she looked like.

And then she stepped out of the bathroom and he saw her for the first time, for the second time…If that made any sense.

She was wearing a thin black lingerie dress. She was thin too—skeletal, almost. Her skin was too white, almost like a vampire's. Her black hair reached down to the small of her back, curling slightly. Her mouth was small; her nose was pointy; her blue eyes were too big for her face, and they only looked bigger because of her long black eyelashes. She looked like a doll out of a horror opera.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

For several minutes, Sebastian just lay there, staring at her from underneath his pillow. She shifted uncomfortably and awkwardly played with a lock of her hair. Sebastian vaguely remembered how she looked when she was walking down the aisle towards him. She had looked beautiful then, too, but not nearly as lovely as she looked now.

He slowly stood up and approached her.

"You look…" he said and cleared his throat. "You look…"

She forced a small laugh and tossed her head. Her hair smelled like roses.

"You don't have to say anything," she said. "I know. You're disappointed."

Her looks were harsh, but she had a pleasantly musical voice. Not unnaturally sing-songily ditzy or annoying or anything; just slightly lilting.

Everything was coming back to him now—her face, her voice, her movements…The dialogue-thing in his memories was slowly filling back out into a real person.

She thought that she was disappointing. He was rather surprised. Then he was surprised at him being surprised. This whole situation was like meeting her for the first time again. It was strange.

She forced another laugh and then scooted by him, moving to the bed. Sebastian continued staring. She had a nice walk—some hip movement, not too exaggerated. Nice long legs. Her rear didn't stick out.

She turned to look at him and he immediately averted his eyes. He felt a bit hot. He glanced at himself in a mirror and was ashamed to find that he was blushing.

 _"It's just a shock,"_ he told himself. _"It's just a shock. By the morning, you'll remember everything about her and then it'll just be like before. You don't like her. You're just a bit shocked. That's it. That's all. Everything will be back to normal in the morning."_

Already he was remembering how much he had hated her. Then she cleared her throat and he turned to look at her and then he forgot again.

"Well?" she asked, pushing her hair behind her ear. "What now?"

"Now? Now I suppose that we…uh…sleep?"

Sebastian no longer felt tired. His demonic instincts had woken up within him, and now he felt eerily awake and energized. His eyesight was sharper; his mind was clearer; his head no longer hurt. He felt that he should suppress them, as usual, but for some reason, he didn't really want to.

"What—you mean in the same bed?"

"Why not?" he said and sat down on the edge. "Which side do you want?"

"The…right."

"Certainly."

Eleanora lay down and covered herself up with the blankets. Sebastian lay down next to her and tried to calm down his urges.

"Eleanora?" he finally said.

"What?"

"It's our wedding night, isn't it?"

"I suppose…"

"So…don't you think that we should do…something? Just to…commemorate…the occasion?"

He found her leg underneath the blankets and began stroking it. Mmm, she had nice skin…

She slapped his hand away.

"Touch me and I'll shove this pillow down your throat and give you a third lung."

Ah, yes. Eleanora had been fond of threats. But while her tone was hard and while she was glaring, there was a noticeable look of fear in her big blue eyes. The instincts died down enough for Sebastian to apologize and scoot away a bit regretfully.

 _"Just go to sleep,"_ he told himself. _"Just go to sleep. It'll all be better in the morning. You hate this woman, remember? You hate all women. You hate everyone!_ Especially _humans_."

He told himself this over and over again. But his demonic urges still didn't die down and he didn't fall asleep for three hours.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn't stay long in Hell after the wedding. They had business back in Phantomhive, so about a week after the ceremony, Rose and Jean saw the trio off at the train station. Jean wept throughout the whole goodbye and continually asked if Sebastian and Eleanora _really_ couldn't stay for just _one more day_?

Sebastian kissed his parents and Eleanora hesitantly did the same. Ciel got by with just a handshake. Then they boarded the train and soon they were off, going back to the human world.

Ciel settled back into his seat and watched the scenery go by. He wondered what everyone else had been doing in the months of their absence. Was the mansion still standing? Did the servants still have all of their limbs? Was Madam Red alright?

He glanced at his butler and his maid. Sebastian was staring out the window. Eleanora was reading a book. They were sitting in the same seat, but there was so much distance between them, it was like staring at two strangers. He wondered what they were thinking about. And then he wondered when they would go eat. The unholy were masters of desserts.

Sebastian was thinking about when he would be coming back home. Who knew how long this contract with the little bra—that is, young Master, would last? And then he'd finally— _finally_ —get to eat that soul…He licked his lips at the thought. But then what? Would he go and find another master? Immediately after he had finished at Phantomhive? He doubted it. He was going to need a long, _long_ break to recover from _this_ one. So he'd come back here—back to warm, comforting Hell…Only he doubted that he would stay with his parents again. No, he'd go back to his own nice private mansion in the country, far away from humans and other creatures of significantly low-intelligence, and then in the evenings, he and Eleanora—

He paused in his thinking. _"He and Eleanora?"_ It had never been "he and Eleanora" before. It had always just been Him. In fact, was "he and Eleanora" even grammatically correct? Why was he suddenly thinking about grammar? Was he intentionally distracting himself from the point?

He glanced at Eleanora out of the corner of his eye. She had brought out a deck of cards and was trying to teach the young Master how to play poker. She had never been a part of his future plans before. They had always lived separate lives. But naturally, he would have to do something about her after the contract was finished. Killing her was out of the question; they were properly married now; he would be convicted of uxoricide. Maybe he could find her a stable job in the human world and wish her a good life and that would be the end of it. Then she could live her life and he could live his life and the evenings would get so lonely and—why was he thinking like that? He had never been lonely before. He had always been perfectly happy in his own company. He had never liked having other people around—in fact, he usually strove to _avoid_ other people. But he somehow felt that it would be different with Eleanora not around. But how so?

 _"I'm just slightly ill,"_ he told himself, pressing his hand against his forehead. _"I'm just tired, first from the wedding planning, then from the wedding, and now this trip. I'll feel better when we get back to the manor and things will return to normal."_ He glanced at Eleanora again, who noticed this time and raised an eyebrow in his direction. He scowled at her to prove to her that he still hated her and then he went back to staring out the window.

 _"I wonder what she's thinking about?"_ he suddenly thought. _"Is she thinking about the future? Is she thinking about our future together? Is she thinking about_ ME _?!"_

He suddenly felt unnaturally hot, but it wasn't a bad type of hot. For some strange reason, he felt almost…pleased. What was the word? Good? Yes, that was it. It felt good to have someone thinking about you—particularly if that someone was your wife.

 _"I'M JUST SICK I'M JUST SICK I'M JUST SICK."_

 _"I wonder when we're going to eat?"_ Eleanora thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Eleanora had never thought that she would ever say it in her lifetime, but: it was good to go back to work.

Phantomhive was so familiar. The work was so consistent. And best of all, there was no wedding to prepare for. No strange in-laws always hounding her. She was (relatively) free.

Naturally the work was hard and the young Master could get a bit…demanding at times, but work forced one to think about work and sensible, practical things, and at night, she was almost always too tired to really worry about anything else except tomorrow's schedule and sleep. The butler and she rarely crossed paths; they each had their own individual jobs to do, and that suited Eleanora just fine. She would have been perfectly happy to never see the demon ever again.

Sebastian was also calming down. Being a butler was so predictable at times. It was soothing. He barely saw Eleanora, let alone talk to her, and even then, their conversations were always short and to-the-point. No messy, useless, _human_ emotions to interfere. Life was as good as it could get.

But…

Sebastian was a demon. He had natural demonic instincts, which he had always been good at suppressing. The instincts frequently urged him to do things—things like ripping off an adversary's head, or going to a fancy restaurant and eating as much rich food as he wanted, or throwing certain young Masters off of certain manors' rooftops. But he had always stifled them, only unleashing them when necessary. Being a gentleman—and a butler to boot—demanded it. Over time, he had gotten to the point where the instincts would only rise up in the direst of circumstances; other than that, they remained quiet within him.

But now they were rising up again, and he couldn't understand why. He wasn't in any danger. His prey wasn't in any danger. He was in a perfectly fine mood…There was no reason for them to flare up like this, and so suddenly and constantly.

But the worst part about the instincts was that they were always about Eleanora.

One day, he was in the kitchen, preparing the young Master's dinner. Eleanora was sitting at the table, mending clothes. Everything was perfectly normal. She was humming softly to herself. Sebastian was listening with half an ear and spent most of the time consulting and re-consulting the recipe.

And then the instincts blazed up.

 _"What are you doing?"_ they whispered.

 _"Cooking,"_ he answered back.

 _"That's what you're doing now,"_ they replied, _"but what about afterwards?"_

 _"Then I'll give the food to the young Master."_

 _"But what about when the contract has expired and there is no more young Master? What will you do then?"_

 _"That won't happen in a while."_

 _"Humans are so delicate, so fragile. The little brat could die tomorrow. And then what will you do?"_

 _"Then I'll go back home."_

 _"And what about the lady?"_

 _"Who?"_ Sebastian asked, even though he knew perfectly well who he was thinking about.

 _"Eleanora,"_ the instincts breathed tantalizingly. _"Your wife—Eleanora Michaelis."_

 _"What about her?"_

 _"What will you do with her when the contract's over?"_

 _"I'll…find her a nice job up here. Maybe I'll buy her a nice house. Send her money every month or so. Support her from a distance and all that."_

 _"Could you live like that? You know how long a demon lives…Can you really live a life like that?"_

 _"Of…course. I mean, I've done it before."_

 _"Look at her,"_ he hissed to himself. _"Just look at her, you clod."_

He looked at her. He couldn't stop himself.

There she was, mending one of his tailcoats, frowning at a rather difficult hole and trailing off in her humming as she looked for ways to fix it.

 _"What do you see?"_ he asked himself.

 _"I see a maid."_

 _"You see a woman. You see your wife."_

 _"So? That doesn't mean anything…"_

 _"It means everything, you twit. This isn't like your other contracts—you don't live with her for a while and then you eat her soul and move on. This is for life. This is forever."_

 _"I hate those types of contracts. I hate it when I don't get anything in return for my troubles."_

 _"You're even stupider than I thought. Your father was right—you inherited his looks and absolutely none of his brains. Look at her again—look at her closely."_

Sebastian gave her another look, a deeper look.

 _"You see?"_ the instincts whispered. _"You're getting everything out of his contract…She's yours forever…And you're hers' forever…Nothing keeping you away from each other, nothing able to break you two apart…"_

Sebastian realized something, something so shocking and profound that it shut up his instincts (for the time being, anyway). He strode over to Eleanora, who had accidentally pricked herself with the needle and now had her finger in her mouth.

"Wah i eh?" she asked as he approached.

"Eleanora…" he said and knelt down next to her. He picked up her skirt and looked deep into her eyes…"There's a hole in this dress."

"Really?" she said, taking her finger out of her mouth and examining her maid uniform. The skirt was riddled with holes. "Well, fancy that."

"It's useless to repair it," Sebastian sighed and looked at the whole outfit, which had been stitched back together so many times already that it resembled a resurrected uniform-corpse. "We'll have to get you a new one."

"Why? I have others," she said, going back to the tailcoat.

"Do they all look like that?"

She hesitated.

"…No."

Sebastian sighed and rose up.

"I'll tell the young Master that we need to order a new uniform for you."

"But why waste money? It's a fine dress."

It was several sizes too big on her and made in a style so unfashionable that even he could tell that it was several years out of date.

"You look as if you're wearing a sack."

She frowned at this. Sebastian suddenly got the urge to say that he didn't mean it.

"But…if I don't wear this, what else would I wear?"

"Another uniform? One that wouldn't disgrace the Phantomhive name?"

"I can't afford another uniform."

"The young Master will pay for it. He pays for the rest of the servants' clothing, so why not yours?"

"But I couldn't ask him to…"

"You won't have to ask him," Sebastian said. "I'm going to ask him for you."

"Wait—"

But he had already left.

Eleanora swore and tossed the tailcoat aside. She no longer wanted to mend it.

What is _wrong_ with men? They always want to interfere with the stupidest of trifles and always stayed out of the important things. It was just a silly _dress_ after all. So what if it had gotten a little old?

She frowned at the skirt and smoothed it out over her knees. As she did so, it tore.

So maybe it was a _bit_ older than most uniforms. That didn't mean that it had to be _replaced_.

She swore again and stood up. The damned butler's food was burning. But he'll get his. Someday, very, very soon, he would get his.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later, there was a knock at the door. Eleanora went to go answer it and found a strange woman with a suitcase standing there.

The woman raised her eyebrow and began examining Eleanora, her eyes drifting up and down, up and down…Eleanora forced a small, self-conscious laugh.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"I," the lady announced grandly, "am Nina Hopkins!"

Eleanora blinked.

"That's…great…?"

The lady blinked back.

"…Surely you know who I am?"

"…No?"

"I am the great Nina Hopkins, the tailor!"

"Ohh…" Eleanora had always thought that merchants had to come in through the back door, but she was here now, so…"Did the Earl invite you?"

"Yes, he said that one of his maids was in desperate need of a new uniform." Nina gave Eleanora's dress a critical look. "I'm assuming that that's you?"

Eleanora frowned.

"I'm sure I don't know who the Earl meant," she said coldly, "but come in."

Nina didn't need to be invited twice; she breezed in and marched up the Earl's study, as if she had been there before.

" _Hellooo_ , Lord Phantomhive!" she said, entering the room with Eleanora quietly trailing behind. "How are you? And—Oh." She scowled. "You still have the Stiff with you, I see."

"Nina," Ciel sighed, standing up. "Welcome. Have you already met Eleanora? She's the one who needs the uniform."

"Oh," Nina gave Eleanora another quick, cutting look. "I understand."

"What? Is there a problem?"

"Oh, nothing, my Lord," the tailor sighed. "It's just that…she doesn't have the most flattering features…"

" _You're_ one to talk," Eleanora mumbled under her breath.

" _What_ was that?"

"Nothing."

Sebastian smirked a bit.

"I don't care if her features are up to your standards or not," Ciel said, getting back to work. "Go and get her measurements and makes sure that she gets a proper uniform."

Nina scowled again, but agreed. Sebastian led the two women to a private room and then stood outside the door, making sure that no one would be going in by accident. His mind drifted to other topics, such as the lunch preparations and cats and whether or not the laundry had been washed and then he heard Nina yelp inside the room.

"That—What is _that_?"

Then Eleanora's calm voice:

"That? That's a gun."

"Well, what's it doing in your _stocking_?"

Sebastian closed his eyes, which was worse than keeping him open, as his mind could now conjure up the image even better.

"What—does it make you uncomfortable?"

" _Yes_ it makes me uncomfortable!"

A sigh.

"Fine."

The sound of something clattering onto a table.

"Now then," Nina continued. "If there's nothing else—What is _that_?"

"That? That's another gun."

"Just how many guns do you _have_? How many do you even _need_? _Why_ do you need them?!"

"For protection."

"Protection from _what_? Dust bunnies?!"

Silence. Sebastian could picture Eleanora's face. She was probably, as she would say, "pissed off."

"Well, as long as there aren't any more weapons around…" Nina sighed. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take the rest of your clothes off."

Sebastian groaned. He did not have to hear that.

"What— _all_ of them?"

"Of course, all of them! I need to take your measurements!"

Sebastian heard a faint whimper, and then swishing sounds as layers of clothing were removed. He realized that he was mentally counting down from full dress to absolute nudity.

And Nina was still discovering weapons. She almost cut herself on a switchblade which had fallen out of Eleanora's corset.

Another silence, and then a low whistle.

"I take it all back," Nina said, impressed. "You _do_ have a _very_ nice figure…That horrible dress that you were wearing covered it all up. Just _look_ at the _size_ of those things!...Do you mind if I…?"

"What? Touch them? No, go ahead."

" _Thank_ you!"

Sebastian groaned again. He desperately wanted to leave. But then Finny came by and asked if he could get something out of the room and Sebastian shooed him away. As soon as the gardener had left, Sebastian wondered if Nina was still touching Eleanora's…things. Then he wondered if _he_ would ever get the chance to touch them.

 _"Don't think about it,"_ he told himself. _"Think about cats. Think about cats. Think about cats."_

"And those _legs_! My _goodness_! They're so long and slender! And so _smooth_!"

 _"Think about cats, think about cats, think about cats…"_

"Mmm, and your hips aren't so bad either..."

 _"IamthinkingaboutcatsIamthinkingaboutcatsIamthinkingaboutcats_ …"

Then Eleanora made a surprised noise that sounded like a kitten's mewl and Sebastian stopped thinking about cats.

For a while, all was silence. Sebastian listened to it gratefully. And then there was a crashing sound and the sound of someone shrieking and he instinctively threw open the door.

" _What is it? What happened_?"

Eleanora—still quite naked—was lying on the floor.

"I was standing on the stool," she said simply, "and Nina stumbled and pushed me and I lost my balance."

"Uh...huh…"

" _What are you doing_!" Nina screamed. " _Shame_ on you! Infiltrating a lady's dressing-room! You _pervert_!" Nina grabbed an item of clothing and threw it at Sebastian, who dodged it and closed the door, breathing hard.

The item had landed on the opposite side of the hallway, in full view of Sebastian. He stared at it for a time, wondering what it was. And then he realized and his stomach dropped. He called out,

"Eleanora…Your k…Your…k…"

"My what?"

He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Your k…Your ko…Your cor…"

"You mean my corset?"

Sebastian nodded, even though Eleanora couldn't possibly have seen it.

Another sigh, and then Nina shouted,

"Don't go out there! Then he'll _see_!"

"So what?"

The door opened and Sebastian immediately looked away, his face unnaturally hot.

"Oh, there it is."

He watched Eleanora pick up the corset and turn to go back into the room. He looked away again.

"What is it? Your face is bright red." Eleanora stood in front of him and felt his forehead. "Are you sick? Or…Oh no. Don't tell me that you're _embarrassed_?"

Sebastian cleared his throat again.

"What kind of a butler are you if you can't stand seeing a woman naked?" Eleanora grinned and lightly hit his face with her corset as she strode into the room.

The door shut and Sebastian collapsed onto the floor. He felt something running from his nose—blood.

 _"What did I do?"_ he asked no one in particular in his mind. _"What did I do to deserve such punishment?"_

But, of course, nobody answered him.


	7. Chapter 7

About two days after the incident with the tailor, a package arrived for Eleanora. She had wanted to go upstairs with it, but Madam Red had insisted that she try on the new clothes in front of all the women first. So Eleanora, Mey-Rin, and Grell had gotten some tea and snacks and were now camping out in the Madam's room, which was just fine with Sebastian. The young Master was calling him anyway.

He had a letter—from the Queen, of course; no one else liked him enough to send him anything, except for perhaps a bomb—which very politely asked him to look into some kind of cult that claimed to be able to resurrect the dead.

"Resurrect the dead?" Ciel frowned up at Sebastian. "Is that even possible?"

"It's possible," Sebastian said after thinking for a while. "I've known several people who have attempted it—but only a few; it's extremely difficult to bring someone back to life. I sincerely doubt that an ordinary human could pull it off."

"How do you do it?"

Sebastian gave him a look.

"First," he said finally, "you have to get the two parts of their soul—one part goes to Death, and the other part usually goes to the Reapers or a demon. If a demon gets the soul, then that's it. If the Reaper gets the soul, it's extremely difficult to get it back, and it's even harder to get the other part from Death than it is to get it from the Reapers. Then you need their original heart and brain, still in working order—meaning, they must not have rotted at all. If they've rotted, then it's harder for the process to work. And if a vampire has gotten the heart, then that's it. And if an undead has gotten the brain, then that's it also. And after you've gotten all these things—soul, heart, and brain—you need to put them in a body, preferably the body that the pieces have come from. If you don't have that body, you have to find another body that won't reject the organs. And then there's a lot of prayer and scientific things that have to be done. It's all very complicated and if the slightest thing goes wrong, the whole experiment is ruined. Most people don't attempt it—it's easier to just accept and allow for the dead to remain dead."

"I see…" Ciel said. "So, even _if_ a human was somehow able to know how to do all those things…"

"…the possibility of them actually being able to do it all is incredibly, almost impossibly slim."

"So it's probably a hoax. They're probably not _really_ bringing the dead back to life."

"As I said, the ritual has extremely low success rates, even for us unholy. The chances of a human pulling it off…"

"Hmm…" Ciel frowned at the letter. "It says here that the next meeting is purportedly on a ship…" He looked up at his butler. "Find that ship and get tickets."

"Certainly, my Lord. How many?"

"Two…No, three."

"Three, my Lord? May I ask what the third one is for?"

"Oh, for anyone else who wants to go. Someone useful. Actually…" Ciel looked up at Sebastian. "Give it to Eleanora."

The normally-impassive butler noticeably winced.

"What? Something wrong?"

"It's nothing, my Lord. It's just that…" Sebastian took a deep breath. "Eleanora and I do not get along, and I sincerely doubt that she would be of any use to me—us—during this…expedition. To put it bluntly, sir, she would only get in my way, should a situation arise."

"Nonsense, an extreme situation shouldn't occur if it truly is a hoax," Ciel said. "Besides, it's probably taking place on one of those luxury liners. It'll be like a pleasure cruise!"

"My Lord," Sebastian said, smiling thinly, "any trip with Eleanora will most certainly _not_ be a pleasure cruise…"

"Tea, my Lord," Eleanora said, entering the room, carrying a tray and wearing her brand-new uniform.

It was black, with a white frilly apron. It looked like something a tasteful French maid would wear. It was professional, but was also rather tight, showing off her bust and her curves, which she seemed to suddenly have quite a lot of.

Sebastian's words died in his throat as she passed. He couldn't stop staring, and even after she had left, he kept on staring at the door.

Ciel cleared his throat. Sebastian slowly turned to look at him again.

"I take it that Eleanora won't be a problem anymore?"

Sebastian cleared his throat; his demonic eyes returned to normal.

"My Lord, she'll still be a problem—"

"—she'll just be _less_ of one. Got it."

"My Lord—"

"SO it's settled!" Ciel said loudly. "Eleanora will be coming with us on this trip!"

Sebastian thought it wise not to argue anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

Eleanora, actually, did not like boats. In truth, she had never been on a boat before, but since she had never been on one, she naturally assumed that she hated it.

And it appeared that her initial impressions of boats and sailing were correct when they got to the harbor.

First of all, everything smelled of fish. Eleanora liked fish just as much as the next person, but…there was such a thing as _too much_ fish. And this wasn't the nice, fresh fish smell, like in the kitchen when Sebastian cooked. This was a horrible, half-rotted, trash-fish type smell.

The sea was overrated. As Eleanora leaned over the railing, waiting impatiently for the rest of the passengers to hurry-up-and-get-on-the-damned-thing-already, she stared down at the water lapping against the sides of the ship. It didn't look at all appetizing—it actually looked a bit sickening. She decided, right then and there, that she was not the type of woman to become a pirate—which was actually quite a shame, as "pirate" had always sounded like a good back-up plan to her…if being a maid and a demon's wife didn't work out, that is.

Eleanora wondered if she would get seasick. She hoped not—that sounded terribly unpleasant and unprofessional. She absentmindedly glanced at the butler, who was standing a bit aways from her, staring out into space. _He_ probably never got seasick. She wished that she could ask, but that would be rude and also show that she actually cared about him, which she most certainly did _not_. She wondered where the young Master was and if he was getting into trouble already.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was remembering the first time he had been on a boat. He didn't remember the place, but he remembered that he had panicked when he couldn't see land and spent most of the trip lying down in the cabin. It hadn't been fun for him, but his father had invented a drinking game where one would take a shot everytime Sebastian would turn green. So his father hadn't really spent much time sober—he had wandered around the deck in a drunken daze—drunk by unholy standards, of course. They hadn't gone on many cruises after that. Luckily, Sebastian had been able to overcome seasickness quickly; now he wasn't bothered by it. He wondered where the young Master was. Probably already getting into some form of trouble.

After what seemed to be forever, the passengers were finally all on, the luggage was safely stored away, and the ship was moving. Eleanora watched the land until it was out of sight. Then there was nothing around but water—disgusting, bad-smelling, _seawater_.

"Are you feeling alright?" Sebastian asked, standing next to her. She jumped; she had almost forgotten that he was around. He had disappeared before the boat had left.

"Fine. Where's the young Master?"

"He's lying down in his cabin," the butler sighed. "I forgot that he gets seasick."

Eleanora couldn't resist a grin; she turned her face away so that he wouldn't see.

"How soon will he recover?" she asked once she could say it with a straight face.

"Who knows? Soon, I hope. We have business to attend to."

"Oh, so this isn't a normal vacation cruise? I was wondering why the Earl insisted that I come…" She stared out at sea again. So far, she hadn't felt any ill effects from travelling. Maybe pirate was still a back-up occupation…

"Eleanora?" Sebastian said.

"Hm?"

"I want to make one thing very clear to you."

"Certainly. What?"

"I hate you."

Eleanora paused and turned to look at him.

"…What?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you knew," he said stiffly. "Just so you wouldn't get any…ideas."

"What ideas? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language. And no matter what happens, I'll always hate you. And absolutely nothing will change that. We did not marry for love, and we will never love one another. We are husband and wife in name and legality only. Do you understand?"

Eleanora was at a loss for words for a couple of seconds. Then she regained her tongue and scowled at him.

"You took the words out of my mouth," she said icily. The butler nodded.

"Just as long as we're clear."

"Transparently."

Sebastian nodded again and left. Eleanora leaned against the railing again, furious beyond words.

 _"What the hell was_ that _all about?"_ she thought. _"He didn't have to go out and_ say _it—I already knew that. He didn't have to be so…so…Why the hell did he even_ do _that? He didn't need to say that to_ me _—maybe…he just needed to say that…to himself? But why? No, that's not it. He's just an asshole, and that's it."_

Eleanora spat into the seawater. So, this was going to be the whole trip. Just boredom and hearing the young Master vomit and the butler reminding her that he hated her. What fun. The trip had just started and she already couldn't wait for it to be over.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a party in the first-class passenger lounge several days after the ship had set sail. Ciel was wandering around, absentmindedly eating the occasional tidbit, his legs still a bit shaky. Sebastian had disappeared, and Eleanora was wandering around outside. People who lived in first-class made her uncomfortable.

"My Lord."

Ciel jumped a bit and turned around. Sebastian was standing behind him.

"It's tonight."

"Yes, I know," Ciel said and frowned at the crowd. He wondered where Elizabeth had run off to. She probably wouldn't notice if he went missing for a couple of hours. "Well…Shall we go? We have to disguise ourselves, after all…"

The boat lurched and he felt a twinge of sickness. No, not now. Not tonight. He could be sick on any other night, but not tonight. Tonight was too important.

"I'll go and get ready," he said, choosing a random excuse to go to his room and lie down for a few minutes. "Meet me in my room in ten."

"Certainly."

And Ciel strode away, trying to indiscreetly grab things for support as he went. Sebastian watched him go and then looked out at the crowd. In the distance, he could see Eleanora outside.

 _"Well, why not?"_ he thought. After all, they had parted on rather bad terms. It was high time to make up. He walked towards her.

Eleanora was staring at the stars, shivering slightly. It was a cold night—far too cold for a midnight swim, if any moron was dumb enough to jump overboard. It was also an incredibly peaceful night; nothing out of the ordinary was happening; but for some reason, she couldn't get rid of a nervous feeling in her stomach.

"Ms. Black?"

She turned around; the butler was approaching her.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, standing next to her.

"Nothing. Just…thinking." She looked out at the sea. "It's very calm tonight."

"Mm, that's good. There'll be less excitement."

"It's hard to see anything out here…"

"What's to see?"

"I don't know."

He scoffed and she scowled at him.

"What?"

"Nothing." They were silent for a few minutes. Sebastian started mentally counting down; in eight minutes, he had to go and see the young Master. "I've been thinking a lot too."

"Really? That's a surprise. I hope your little brain wasn't strained from the sudden exercise?"

 _"Don't get upset; don't get upset; don't get upset…"_

"I realize that I may have been a bit…harsh the last time we spoke."

"Really? What gave you that idea?"

"I thought that we might make up," he said, giving her a look from the corner of his eyes, trying to tell her that he was very kindly _allowing_ her to make up with him, and that she should be grateful and seize the chance while she could.

"I thought that I saw a whale," she replied, "but then it turned out to be you."

His eyebrow twitched; he felt his anger rising.

"…Are you implying that I'm _fat_?"

"If the shoe fits, tubby," Eleanora said, poking his stomach, "wear it."

"I am _not FA—_ " He composed himself. He wasn't going to get anywhere by getting upset with her. Six minutes left. "I take it that you don't want to make up?"

"Ask me tomorrow," she said. "I'm not in a good mood right now."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I don't know," she murmured and looked away. "It's just…It's such a calm night…"

"Yes, I believe that you mentioned that."

"I don't know," she repeated. "I just have this strange feeling…that something really bad is going to happen soon…"

"It'll pass," he said dismissively. Four minutes.

"Maybe it won't. Maybe I'll be right."

" _I_ don't have such a feeling," he said, smiling at her mockingly. "And if someone such as I don't have such a feeling, I don't see much validity."

"But what if I'm _right_ and something bad really _will_ happen?"

"The _odds_ of that _happening_ , Eleanora."

She stared at him for a few minutes, her eyes coldly furious.

"One day," she said slowly, "something really bad will happen, and then you'll see that I was right all along. But by the time that happens, I'll be gone forever, and you'll never see me again."

"Sweetheart," he said, grinning, "when the day comes that I'll never have to see you again, I won't have time to realize that you were right…because I'll be celebrating until Heaven falls."

Eleanora's eyes widened; she couldn't speak for a few minutes from rage; all she could do was spit at him and call him something awful.

"I hate you," she hissed. " _I HATE you_."

"Likewise, I'm more than sure," he said, still smiling. She stomped away, her eyes filling up with angry tears. Sebastian felt a pang of something…He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe hunger. In any case, he had to go and get his young Master.

He strode to the first-class quarters, his conversation with Eleanora already drifting out of his mind. His last thought about it was,

 _"She'll get over it. She always could. No matter what happens, she'll be just fine."_


	10. Chapter 10

Eleanora couldn't remember the last time she had been so upset. Just who the hell did that butler think he was? Always thinking that he was better than her in every way—always assuming that he was right and she was wrong, and why? Because she was a mere _human_. It wasn't _fair_! Humans could do things that demons couldn't, like…like…like…

Well, she would think about the perks of being a human later. For now, she was tired and angry. She wanted to either go to sleep or kill something. What a shame that she could only do one of those choices on a cruise.

She went to her cabin in the third class area and lay down on the bed and tried to go to sleep. She, unfortunately, shared the cabin with the _butler_ , but he was busy with something—probably saving the young Master's delicate ass again. That boy could find trouble in a padded room.

She suddenly felt a small jolt run through the room, as if someone had run an electric current throughout the ship. Oh, well, someone had probably just tried to do something stupid and the power had gone out. Nothing major.

She closed her eyes and rolled over, forcing herself not to think about the damned dumb demon. She could deal with the butler later, when he would come in later. Then again, she could just pretend to be asleep and then deal with him tomorrow. Yes, that was a good plan. If she hadn't fallen asleep by the time he came in, she would pretend to be unconscious, no matter what. And already she was feeling tired…Her last conscious thought was, once again, about the Young Master. Hopefully, he wasn't in a situation so bad that the butler couldn't fix it.

Meanwhile, Ciel was in a really bad situation, and Sebastian was absolutely nowhere to be found.

He was standing on top of a huge crate, clutching his fiancée, Elizabeth, trying to remember where it all went wrong. He remembered going to the Aurora Society meeting…He remembered thinking that it was all just a big hoax…He remembered a corpse coming back to life…And then that Grim Reaper who was completely obsessed with Grell for some reason showed up…And then the man who had run the meeting had run off…And then Elizabeth had followed him…And _then_ it turned out that the ship's storage freight was full of newly-reanimated corpses who were now trying to devour him and his fiancée.

And Sebastian was still off fighting that one Reaper. Could things get any worse?

The crate that they were on suddenly lurched. Ciel risked looking down to see what the corpses were doing—

They were tearing it down using their teeth and nails. Perfect.

"Ciel!" Elizabeth said. "Ciel, what's happening? Are we—Are we going to _die_?"

"No!" Ciel said hurriedly. "We aren't! That is to say, maybe! But it's alright!" He held her tighter. "No matter what happens, I will _definitely_ protect you!"

"How admirable, my Lord."

The main corpses who were attacking the crate suddenly fell to the ground—the butler was standing on the stairs, grinning.

"Risking your life for one woman—truly noble of you."

"Sebastian!" Ciel felt a surge of relief for half a millisecond, which was then replaced by anger. " _Why are you just standing there! DO SOMETHING_!"

"Certainly, sir." He charged for the corpses and his hand stretched out towards one of their heads…

Ciel forced Elizabeth's head into his chest so that she wouldn't see the carnage. It was a horrible, horrible scene, but it was all over with surprisingly quickly.

"I'm done, young Master," Sebastian said, smiling.

Ciel took several deep breaths. It was absolutely disgusting—his butler, normally so calm and immaculate, standing in a pool of blood, his usually-pristine white gloves soaked with red, his eyes still flashing with demonic bloodthirstiness.

"Couldn't you have been a bit neater about it?" Ciel was finally able to say once he was firmly on the floor. "This is disgusting."

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said, not looking very sorry at all. "It was an emergency."

"But, Ciel," Elizabeth said, taking his arm, "what exactly _were_ those things? And…And what do they want?"

"They want to eat people," Ciel said, "but it's alright now. They're gone. It's over."

"But…But who would _do_ such a thing?"

Sebastian suddenly made a move and pinned someone who was trying to sneak away.

"Well, if it isn't _you_ ," Ciel said, glaring at the cowering man. "Rian Stoker, founder of the Aurora Society. I'm not in a good mood, so you'd better start explaining why these corpses suddenly started moving around."

"I'd love to," the man gasped, "but I can't. Not right now!"

"Oh, don't worry," Sebastian said, grabbing him as he tried to run away. "There's still plenty of time before we reach our final destination, so we'll be listening to your story with the _greatest_ of _interest_."

" _No_! You don't understand! This ship is so big…There are _two_ storage rooms! One in front and one in the back, in the third class…"

"So?" Ciel said.

"And-And in the _second_ storage freight," Stoker stammered, "we put in _ten times as many samples as in here_!"

 _Ten times as many samples_. Elizabeth audibly gasped and Ciel put his hand over his eyes. Sebastian just rolled his. Humans could be so stupid sometimes.

"And you _just_ decided to bring this up _now_? How could you have possibly forgotten something so _important_?" Ciel demanded.

"I couldn't help it!" Stoker wailed. "I didn't _think_ that it was important at the _time_! I thought that it wouldn't have such a big _impact_ on me!"

"Well, never mind," Ciel said. He pulled his gun out and jabbed Stoker's ribs with it. "Do you know how to stop them?"

"Y-Yes; I have a device in my room that can turn them all off again…"

"Then let's go and get it, and _quickly_."

"But, Ciel!" Elizabeth said. "What about my _parents_!"

"Oh…right." Ciel said, sharing a look with Sebastian. "We-ell…I'm sure they'll be alright, as long as they don't go into the second storage freight…"

"But…But…" Her eyes started brimming with tears. "My _parents_ …!"

"Who _are_ these people?" Stoker asked. "Some kind of lord and lady?"

"Something like that," Sebastian nodded. " _Kind_ of like a lady, only more…more…"

He suddenly had a horrible feeling in his stomach, as if it was rapidly plummeting downwards. _Lady…Lady…Third class…Lady…_

 _"I didn't think that it was important at the time…I thought that it wouldn't have such a big impact on me…"_

" _Eleanora_ ," Sebastian gasped. " _María,_ I forgot _Eleanora_ …"

"What was that?"

"My Lord, you get this device turned on. I have to go and see to something."

"What? Really? Is it important?"

 _"YES."_

"But what if we get into _more_ trouble?"

But Sebastian was already gone.

Meanwhile, Eleanora was deeply asleep in her third class cabin. She didn't hear anything move around in the storage freight below her, she didn't hear anyone's screams, and she certainly didn't hear something pounding on her door, occasionally scratching at it, desperate to get in…


	11. Chapter 11

_EleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanora—_

The name ran through his head with every step. It was all he was focused on, all he could think about was that name, and the person attached to it. He wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings, moving as fast as he could; his legs little more than a blur—upstairs, first class sections, second class sections, deck, downstairs, getting to the third class…

By this time, the reanimated corpses had flooded into the second class and were steadily advancing towards the first class. The crew—or what was remaining of the crew—locked the doors so that no one from the third and second classes could leave, despite their many protestations and panicked screams.

"Sir," one crewman asked, "are you sure about this? Letting all of these people die?"

"We have no choice," the other one said grimly. "If we let them out, there'll be more panic in the first class, plus some more of those horrible undead things."

The first crewman bit his lip and looked in pity at the begging people on the other side of the door. Both of them turned to leave when the first one stopped again.

"Wait. Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" the second man said and paused. Yes, in the distance, he could hear something…Some _one_...

 _"ra…nora…eanora…Eleanora…"_

"It sounds like…Eleanora…"

"But who the hell is Eleanora?"

Meanwhile, the person who was shouting seemed to be coming closer, and then a man in a tailcoat appeared, running like mad towards them, and repeating over and over to himself,

 _"ELEANORAELEANORAELEANORAELEANORAELEANORAELEANORAELEANORA—"_

" _Wait! Stop_! If you keep going, you'll run into the bars—"

But the man either didn't hear him, or he didn't care, because he just kept running, and didn't even slow down when he reached the barred door. The people on the other side wisely stepped aside for him, because as soon as he reached the bars, he just tore through them, as if he was running through a door made of wet paper.

And as soon as the barred door had been broken, everyone who had been on the other side immediately started streaming out.

But Sebastian didn't care.

 _EleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanoraEleanora—_

Down the stairs, through several hallways, step on several zombies' heads on the way, room 663, room 664, room 665, room 666— _here_!

He stopped in front of the third class room—no one else had wanted that particular room number, which was odd, as that was the luckiest unholy number of all—and kicked the door down.

" _ELEANORA!"_

The room was absolutely trashed. The clothes that had been in the suitcases were scattered all over the floor. The suitcases themselves had been torn apart—no, not torn—blasted. The walls were riddled with bullet holes.

And Eleanora was lying on the floor, face-down, a broken gun next to her lifeless body.

Sebastian collapsed to his knees.

"El—" he started and swallowed hard. "El-Eleanora?"

His hands—normally so steady and reliable—trembled as he gently picked her up.

"Eleanora?" he whispered and turned her face so that he could look at it.

Her mouth was unnaturally wide with too-big teeth. Her skin had lost its nice softness and her eyes were blindfolded.

Sebastian dropped the corpse and stood up. The corpse's body was also filled with bullet holes, and there was one in the back of its head. So Eleanora must have shot and killed it while it was chewing on her gun.

He began looking around the room, this time thoroughly. Her nightgown was lying on the floor and some of her clothes were missing, as well as all of the weapons that she had stubbornly insisted on bringing. He had told her not to when they were packing—he had said that they wouldn't be needed, but she had brought them anyway. So she had been right

The relief that she was still alive had improved his stomach, but now he felt it disappearing again, as if it had been replaced by a bottomless pit.

"Eleanora?" he whispered. "Eleanora?"

He picked up her nightgown and pressed it against his face. It was cold—which meant that she had changed and left the room a while ago.

Which meant that she was probably no longer in third class.

Which meant that she was probably wandering around the ship which was swarming with the walking dead.

"Oh Lord," he whispered and staggered to his feet again. "Oh _Lord_ …"

 _"One day, something really bad will happen, and then you'll see that I was right all along…"_

"Eleanora?" he whispered, dropping the nightgown. "Sweetheart?"

 _"…but by the time that happens…"_

"Eleanora? Darling? My dearest?" He moved to the door.

 _"…I'll be gone forever…"_

"Eleanora. _Eleanora._ Eleanora!"

 _"…and you'll never see me again."_

 _"ELEANORA_!" he screamed and ran out of the room, kicking down every closed door he could find before moving on to the next one. "Eleanora? Eleanora? Eleanora? Where _are_ you! Come on, sweetheart; come on, darling; please come out; I swear I'll never do anything to you ever again; just please, please, _please_ be alive…"

There was a sudden jolt and Sebastian was knocked off-balance.

 _"What was_ that _?"_ he thought and looked up into a window, just to see a massive white thing crunch by the ship, slicing it open. _"Oh, wonderful. Just what I needed."_

 _"The young Master."_

Sebastian couldn't help it; he swore and rose to his feet and ran to go and see if the little brat needed some help, which he almost certainly did.

 _"I'll get Eleanora later,"_ he thought, the pit in his stomach being replaced by guilt. _"She'll be fine. She has a gun. And she's competent, which is more than what I could say for the young Master. She'll be fine. She'll be just fine."_

 _"For the love of the Lord, Eleanora, please be fine."_


	12. Chapter 12

Eleanora was not fine. First of all, she was unceremoniously woken up by something breaking down her door and then trying to lunge at her throat, which refused to be killed until she had shot it through the head. And now she was running around a panic-filled cruise ship, trying to find out just what the hell was going on and how could she help.

Finding out what was going on was hard, mostly because absolutely no one on the whole ship seemed to know in the first place, but she had a vague suspicion that it was all the butler's fault, because he was a demon and she needed to blame someone and she was still _very_ upset at him, never mind that most signs pointed to her dying on a huge, rotting piece of pleasure-cruise garbage.

But she tried not to think about that, because—somehow—miraculously—she was still alive and she was still armed to the teeth and still had enough of her wits about her to be able to shoot the strange blindfolded flesh-eaters in the head.

Her second problem—how she could help—was a bit less difficult to solve than the first problem, but it was still hard. For one thing, she wasn't sure just when she was going to run out of ammunition. And for another thing, eventually she was going to run out of steam and not be able to run anymore. And who knew how many of these flesh-eating bozos were still alive? And where were the young Master and that damned butler?

Well, the young Master had probably run off to make sure that the Lady Elizabeth was alright, which meant that he was probably around the first class rooms. She was running towards them, shooting as many blindfolded humans as she could on the way, when she turned a corner and ran right into…

 _"Grell Sutcliff,"_ she gasped and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. "And that young punk. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Grell said, grinning. "We're here to do our job!"

"I thought that you _were_ doing your job, back in London. You know, all those noble killings?"

"Oh, _those_ ," Grell said, waving her hand aside. "That case was finished and closed by Scotland Yard a while ago!"

" _Really_? Why wasn't I informed?"

"You _were_ informed! Remember? The Madam sent a letter to the young Master when you were in Hell, explaining how it all came about."

"I don't recall."

"Don't tell me you _forgot about it entirely_!"

"Of _course_ I didn't! It's just that _planning a !ing wedding_ does _have a habit of pushing other things out of one's mind_!...By the way, who did it?"

"I can't believe you don't remember that letter. It was that little whining brat…Oh, what's his name…"

"Ciel Phantomhive."

" _No_! The _other_ one with the really dumb name…"

"Ciel Phantomhive."

" _No_!...Oh, that's right; it was Wallace W. Wallace."

" _NO_! _Really_?"

"Of _COURSE_ not!...It was his father."

" _REALLY_?! How'd you figure _that_ out?!"

"Well, after we rescued that kid's pathetic rear, Scotland Yard followed him home to make sure that he would get there alright, and _then_ they discovered— _but why am I explaining all this to you!_ I have bigger things to worry about!"

"Oh, _right_!" Eleanora said, suddenly remembering. "The young Master!" She reloaded her gun and prepared to leave. "Thank you for the wonderful explanation, Grell. It's as if you didn't make that up on the spot!"

"Of _course_ I didn't make it up on the spot! It _really_ happened! _Really_! And it was _important_!"

"Then why didn't you explain it to me earlier?"

"Because I figured that you already knew about it! And plus I had other, _more_ important things to worry about!"

"Oh, really? Like what?"

"Like romantic subplot!" Grell said proudly.

" _How_ in the _hell_ do you get _romantic subplot_ from something like _this_?"

"Oh, you foolish human girl—you can get romantic subplot from _anything_!"

"Even a cruise turned evil when people started going insane and started eating other people?"

"Actually, they're _dead_ people coming back to insane life and eating other living people. And _yes_. Are you _kidding_ me? That's where you get the most romantic subplots of all! And just between you and me…" Grell leaned in and started whispering, " _I_ know _exactly_ who's involved in this beautiful drama!"

" _Really? Who?"_

"Well, it involves a certain butler..."

Eleanora gasped.

" _Really_? But…But I thought that…" she leaned in as well, " _I thought that the young Master liked girls?"_

"…What? Of course he does!...Wait. Are you implying that…" Grell's eyes opened in horror at the thought. "Did you _actually_ think that _Bassy—_ "

"Well, I mean, it _would_ explain a _lot_ ," Eleanora said defensively. "Particularly why that damned butler's hair always smells so nice. And why are you so upset about it? You'd think that, if he truly was like… _that_ , and really did like…certain sexes, _you'd_ be the one getting the most benefit out of it!"

" _No,_ I would _not_! I'm a _woman_!...In spirit."

"That's right!" Ronald Knox said, to which the other two simultaneously told him to shut up.

"But why are we discussing the butler's preferred gender! How did we even get _on_ this topic?"

"I _told_ you—" Grell started, but the ship suddenly jerked and they all fell to the ground with the impact.

"Oh dear," Ronald said, flipping through his book. "It seems like things are going to get a little bit more interesting…"

"Why? What's going on? What's going to happen?" Eleanora asked, looking panicked.

"You see, that was just the iceberg that this ship was going to hit, right on schedule," he said.

"So…?"

"And so, this ship is going to sink within the hour."

Eleanora stared at him for a while.

"Well, !," she finally said and stood up.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Grell said.

"I have to go and find the young Master!"

"But where's my _Bassy_? Where's my _love story_!"

"Damned if I know!" Eleanora shouted over her shoulder and within seconds she had disappeared.

"You know, Miss Sutcliff," Ronald said slyly, "you don't need a butler to have a love story…"

"Later, Ronald—we have a job to do!...Just until I find my sweet love, that is…"

The two Reapers rose up and Ronald consulted his book.

"Well, then," he sighed. "Let's go."

And they ran off in the opposite direction of Eleanora's route.

Unlike the business-like attitude of Ronald Knox, Eleanora's mind had now started reeling. Everytime she shot one of the blindfolded humans, she felt sicker inside. It was different when she thought that they were alive—killing living people was easy. Killing dead people…? That was unnatural. They were _dead_. That was the _point_ of being dead—to not come alive again!

And worst of all, the young Master was nowhere to be found: not in his room, not in Elizabeth's room, not in any room at all.

"Wonderful," she groaned and had to stop and rest for a bit. " _Now_ where could they be?"

A living-dead person came around the corner and Eleanora shot him in the head. She was just about to do it again, for good measure, when she realized that she was now officially out of ammunition.

"Well…shit."


	13. Chapter 13

Ciel thought that, all things considered, it was a very nice vacation.

That is, if one slightly omitted the details about reanimated corpses killing people on a sinking ship in the middle of a freezing sea with absolutely no one around to help for miles.

Ciel relayed all of this to Sebastian when the butler came around and asked him how he was doing.

"How the bloody hell do you _think_ I'm doing?" he finished.

And in response to his rather riveting speech, the butler growled at him.

An honest-to-goodness _growl_. Not a human making a pathetic growling noise, but an animal-like growl—a very, _very angry_ animal growl.

Sebastian was most assuredly not in a good mood. He couldn't find Eleanora and instead of looking for her, he had to run all the way to the front of the ship to save the young Master's precious gluteus, and when he had finally gotten there, his reward was a lecture.

He hadn't meant to growl—if his past self had known about it, he would have blushed in shame at behaving in a way not at all suitable for a Phantomhive butler. But he was under a lot of stress and panic and over half of his brain had been taken over his by demonic instincts, which were now telling him that if anyone bothers you, you give them a warning growl, and then you bite their face off.

Fortunately for Ciel, he recognized the danger signs and decided that the butler was not in a toying mood.

"Where's Eleanora?" he asked to quickly change the subject.

A flash of pain and fear swept over Sebastian's burning pink eyes.

"You mean you haven't _found_ her yet?!"

Ciel also felt a surge of fear. Eleanora was a valuable asset to Phantomhive—not to mention, she was a good maid and an excellent conversationalist. He also realized that, should she die, she was the type to come back and haunt people from beyond the grave, which didn't sound very fun, especially when the ghost haunting you is a pissed-off woman with extensive knowledge of weaponry.

"Well, what are you going to _do_?" he asked.

For the first time since he had met Sebastian, he actually looked at a loss.

"I don't know," he said in such a small, quiet voice that Ciel almost started pitying him.

Then the ship lurched and he was snapped back to reality.

"Sebastian, you go and get Elizabeth on deck and into a lifeboat," he said, passing his fretting fiancée over to the butler.

Sebastian nodded and actually looked a bit relieved, as if glad that he could go back into his butler-role again.

"What will you do, my Lord?"

Ciel quickly checked his gun.

"Do you know if there's a…a storage shed for weapons? For…emergencies or something?"

"Yes, there's one down there a ways and then a right," Sebastian pointed. He had wanted to go and check there, too—just to see if Eleanora was there, or had been there…or…or…

His demonic instincts died down as he felt that he didn't really know exactly what to do. It was almost a new feeling—for centuries, he had always known just what to do. But now…

But he couldn't think about that now. He shook his head to clear out the dark thoughts while the young Master and the young lady were quickly parting, then he took Elizabeth up to the deck and didn't leave until she was safely on a lifeboat.

After seeing the lifeboat row away from the ship, he spent several minutes debating with himself on what to do. Normally, he would've been able to trace both Eleanora and the young Master by their contract seals, but with all this panic and confusion and muddling of souls, he could barely find the young Master, and even that was just because he already had a general idea of where he was supposed to be. Forget finding a needle in a haystack—finding Eleanora on this ship would be like finding a solitary strand of hair in a burning forest.

He sighed but still went back down into the ship, heading towards the third class, for the slight hope that he might at least see a sign of her—a _hint_ that she was still alive.

Meanwhile, Ciel was having better luck than Sebastian. He had found a safe that contained ammunitions and artilleries, which normally would have been kept under strict lock and key, but someone had found a metal pipe and had forced it open.

Unfortunately, most of the safe had been cleaned out—there were hardly any guns or bullets left, but Ciel still managed to find several packs of bullets for his particular gun.

He reloaded the gun and turned to leave, when he suddenly paused and looked at the floor.

There was something glimmering in a spot of dried blood—disgusting, but the shiny thing still looked vaguely familiar.

He knelt down and picked it up to examine it further: a small, silver cross on a chain. He recognized it, however bloodstained—Eleanora always wore such a necklace. It was one of her few precious possessions.

The cross charm almost slid off of the chain before he caught it in time. He examined the breakage—he wasn't an expert, but based on all of the violence going around (and the twice-dead corpse lying a few feet away) he could only assume that one had attacked her and torn her necklace off.

For the first time in several hours, he had a strange feeling of desperate, rising hope. He had found Eleanora's necklace, which meant two things:

1) Eleanora had been here, which meant that she was still alive.

And,

2) She was armed, which meant that she could still defend herself, thus staying alive for longer (in theory, anyway)

Sebastian would be pleased.

He pocketed the necklace—she would be glad to have it back, if they both managed to survive this night—and then he went to go look for the idiot who had started this whole mess and his magical machine which would fix it all.


	14. Chapter 14

An hour really wasn't that much time. Normally, one would think that an hour was an eternity, but in actuality, it really wasn't that big of a deal. There were sixty minutes in an hour, and sixty seconds in a minute, which meant that an hour consisted of 3600 seconds. And everybody knew how short a second was…Pocket change, really. _Less_ than pocket change.

And the clock was ticking. Soon the boat would sink.

Eleanora hadn't seen anyone familiar for quite some time—it felt like hours and hours, which was of course ridiculous, as the boat was going to sink in an hour. It was so strange the way time could move so slowly and yet so quickly at the same time.

In fairness, she had seen the butler, but she still wasn't so sure if seeing the butler counted—especially after what she saw him do.

She had been running around the first-class area, trying to find a way to get to the deck, when she noticed a man waving a check around.

This was odd—she was pretty sure that money had no value in disaster situations—so she stopped and looked to see what he was planning on doing with that pretty piece of paper. He seemed to be trying to offer it to somebody…

And then a hearse pulled by two undead horses crashed into him and he was carried away, still screaming to be saved.

Eleanora blinked, mildly shocked. She had never seen an undead horse before—in fact, who on earth would _want_ to resurrect horses? Somebody who _really_ liked horses, maybe, but it was still rather strange.

She felt a pang as she watched the hearse drive by—that poor man.

But wait! There was someone standing by—someone who was just _watching_ that man die. But who could possibly be so cruel to just stare so impassively?

The hearse crashed through the wall and she got a good look at them.

It was the butler. Of course.

Dammit, she _really_ wished that she could be surprised. But she wasn't—she just glared at him in sheer disgust, and he just kind of rolled his eyes at seeing the man's death and he turned to go and suddenly he looked up and saw her.

His face went blank in shock, then he snapped into action and ran for her.

 _"Eleanora!_ Stay there and _don't mo—"_

Then the door on the far side of the hallway broke down and more of the undead humans poured out and began racing towards her and the butler was still shouting for her not to go anywhere.

 _"Screw that,"_ she thought and ran.

That had been three hours ago—or was it three minutes? Her sense of time was still distorted and she _still_ couldn't find the deck.

She was just about to give up and look for a crew member and ask for directions when the boat suddenly lurched to one side.

 _"Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit—"_

Fortunately, she was able to crash into a wall and stay there for a few seconds, her mind racing. The boat had stabilized itself, but for how long? She couldn't stay on board anymore—her one hour was up.

There was a door several feet away from her that had been ripped off of its hinges; she snatched it up and ran for the railing, adrenaline giving her unnatural speed and strength.

She hurled the door over the side and hesitated at the railing. She should really say a prayer or something; didn't people say prayers in this sort of situation?

"Holy Mother, I'm too young to die," she finally said and leapt off the ship, into the frigid sea.


	15. Chapter 15

Ciel was dying.

Everything hurt. His butler had shoved a lifesaver over his body and had rudely tossed him into the ocean—he had wanted to go down with the ship, have a few more seconds to look for Eleanora.

Ciel had sunk through the ring and was now in the sea. He hadn't started inhaling water yet, but the water was so cold…It felt like daggers stabbing into every millimeter of his skin.

For some reason, he kept on remembering Eleanora. She had said something once to him:

 _"Pain is good. Pain means that you're alive. When you stop feeling pain, it means that you are dead."_

She had said that a week before her wedding to Sebastian. Ciel suddenly realized that she must have been in great agony then. He hadn't thought about it before, but he remembered that she had always been so sad. She must have felt dead, then. She must have been so miserable that she didn't feel anything.

He himself was starting to lose feeling in his toes and fingers. Did that mean that he was dying? But he didn't want to die. He had survived so much throughout this night…It was ridiculous for him to die now! He refused to be conquered by a giant puddle of water!

His lungs were bursting; everything within him was screaming for him to breathe. He realized that he had to do something, so he opened his mouth to try and whisper something with his last breath:

 _"Sebas…"_

Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and roughly yanked him back up, into the icy night—but at least it was air. He was thrown into a lifeboat and he knelt on its floor, coughing.

"Sebas…" he said, "Sebastian…"

The butler tossed his tailcoat over him. He looked absolutely horrible from all of the battles that he had fought—Ciel had never seen him look so bad.

There was a horrible moaning sound and they turned to look. The great cruise ship had broken in half and was now sinking rapidly. It disappeared in the sea in seconds.

There was silence on the lifeboat. Ciel cleared his throat and tightened the tailcoat around him.

"Well, then. That's that." He sighed in relief. No more living-dead people to deal with. "Sebastian, let's head back to the rest of the survivors…"

Sebastian fell down onto his knees, staring in horror at the spot where the ship had sunk.

 _"Sebastian_! What is it? What's wrong?"

"I…I couldn't…"

"You couldn't _what_?" Ciel felt a surge of panic. Sebastian was so bloody, so weak…Was he going to die? But he couldn't! Ciel would _not_ allow that!

"Save her…" he whispered. "I couldn't…I couldn't save her…" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "She was right. She was right. And now she's dead. And now I'll never…Never…" He looked away.

 _Eleanora_. Ciel had suddenly completely forgotten about Eleanora. He looked at where the ship had last been. Had she really been on it when it sank?...No. No, that was impossible. This was _Eleanora_. The woman cursed out shopkeepers who tried to cheat her. She would never allow herself to die in such a way.

"She's…Maybe she's still alive," he said weakly, but he knew, deep down, that the odds of her survival…

She was married to a demon, but after all, she was still only a human.

Ciel bent his head down. Eleanora wouldn't want him to cry—she would laugh at him for his weakness. He could already imagine what she would say:

 _"Come on, now! It's just death. Nothing too scary—life is far scarier. And I'm not worth your tears. Don't disappoint me by getting all sentimental—it's disgusting."_

And she would smile and smile and smile and smile, always hiding her true feelings behind that one happy smile…

 _"Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry…"_

But he could still almost hear her voice. He could almost hear her shouting…

 _"…"_

Ciel looked up. What was that?

 _"…it…"_

"Sebastian," he said, but the butler was looking up as well, listening closely.

 _"…hit…"_

The butler stood up and dove into the water again.

"Young Master, hold on to something!"

And then he started pushing the boat, his legs moving faster than they had ever moved before, moving quickly towards the person shouting.

 _"…hit…shit…Shit…SHIT…!"_

Eleanora was in vast amounts of trouble. She had originally thought that all would be well—she had successfully jumped from the sinking ship, had found the door, and had just started to paddle towards the other lifeboats when she realized how quiet the night had become.

There had been other people who had jumped. She had heard them screaming from pain and fear and desperation to be saved. And now there was nothing.

Which meant that…

She realized what was happening just as the first undead sank its teeth into her leg.

And now she was standing on the door, desperately trying to keep her balance while simultaneously trying to shoot every undead bozo that was trying to rip her lungs out.

She was running out of ammunition. Worse, half of the guns that she had "borrowed" didn't work anymore because they had gotten wet. She wouldn't last very long—there were too many of them and too little of her—but she would be _damned_ if she went without taking at least a third of them with her!

"Shit—Shit—Shit— _Shit_!"

 _"ELEANORA!_ "

 _"SHIT?!"_

Someone grabbed her by the waist and threw her into a boat, where someone else grabbed her wrist.

" _Eleanora!_ You're _alright_!"

"Young _Master_! But what…But how…?"

"Hold on to something!" Sebastian shouted, standing above them both and brandishing an oar. "This might get a bit rough."


	16. Chapter 16

The butler had not been exaggerating—the next half-hour was truly rough. Eleanora pressed her body over the young Master's so that he would be protected—the butler was not as gentle as he would have liked to be, and the oar would occasionally smack against her back. And every now and then, the creatures would be too quick for him and they would try and devour her. Luckily, they never got very far in that endeavor.

The little lifeboat was rocking and heaving and Ciel was starting to feel a bit sick. Just when he was sure that he was going to vomit, everything stopped.

There was a pause, and then Eleanora slowly sat up, rubbing her sore and bleeding back. Ciel looked up as well—the boat was surrounded by twice-dead corpses.

"Is it…Is it…over?"

"It's over," Eleanora said. "It's over!" She leapt to her feet. "Hot DAMN it's OVER! And I'm ALIVE! I'm still ALIVE!"

Sebastian dropped the oar.

"…again…"

"What?" She turned to look at him. "What was that?"

"…again…Never again…"

"What are you say—"

She never finished her sentence, because Sebastian suddenly grabbed her and kissed her.

"Again," he sighed when he released her, still cradling her head so that their foreheads were touching. "Never again…Never…Never scare me like that…ever again…"

"…Alright," Eleanora said, dizzy and more than a little shocked. Sebastian smiled and leaned in, and at first she thought that he was going to kiss her again, when he sighed and collapsed onto his knees. "Hey! A-Are you alright?"

He groaned. He felt his body freezing up; he was losing quite a lot of blood. Eleanora looked up at Ciel.

"My Lord, help me…"

But Ciel had turned away in embarrassment after the kiss and was staring at the horizon.

"Look, the sun…"

The sky was slowly becoming lighter; light could be seen in the distance. And in the distance, they could see a rescue ship approaching.

Eleanora smiled upon seeing the ship. She had never been so happy to see a boat in her whole life—that ship meant safety and comfort and health; it meant that they were all alive; it meant that everything was alright now.

And as soon as she realized this, all of the exhaustion and pain and terror that she had repressed throughout the night came to her all at once and she fainted.


	17. Chapter 17

Nobody was much in the mood to continue on to New York after that hell trip; the rescue ship just took them all back to England. After Ciel had finished reuniting with his in-laws and fiancée, he went to look for his servants in the sea of survivors.

Sebastian had been clumsily wrapped up in bandages and was still rather battered and bruised. His skin was unnaturally white while his lips and fingertips were blue. He still looked worse than he had ever looked before, but he was smiling and his arm was wrapped around the unconscious Eleanora, who was on his chest. She was also wrapped in bandages and was starting to run a fever. Ciel hoped that they could arrive in England quickly—he himself was starting to feel a bit ill.

Once they were back in Phantomhive Manor, Madam Red called a doctor for Ciel and Eleanora and an unholy one for Sebastian, and soon all three were lying in their respective rooms, trying to recover.

Eleanora had it worse of all. Not only did everything in her whole damn body hurt, the butler was being even weirder than usual. The unholy doctor had said that he had what was called a "cold fever," so he might have deliriums, but he had never said anything about the butler suddenly screaming, saying that she was dead and not calming down until she entered the room. Or her waking up in the middle of the night and seeing the butler sitting on her stomach, staring at her with horrible, glassy eyes.

It became clear that Sebastian was not going to recover unless Eleanora was with him 24/7, which didn't do much to help _her_ recovery, but as Madam Red said:

"Once _he_ gets better, he can help heal _you_! Wouldn't that be _nice_?"

Eleanora would've rather faced a cruise ship full of zombies again—even alone and unarmed—than have the butler play doctor for her.

But she had to admit that he truly _was_ getting better. His body started warming up again and his lips returned to their normal color. He could now sleep peacefully and wouldn't wake up in the night, panicked and thinking that Eleanora had died.

He became fully lucid in a week, and could hold conversations and instruct the servants what to do. Everything was on track to return to normal—only Sebastian couldn't help but feel awkward around Eleanora.

Every time she came near him, he felt himself blushing and was always inclined to look away.

 _"Does she remember?"_ he always thought. _"Does she remember that kiss?"_

And of course he couldn't ask her, because asking her would mean that _he_ remembered it, and if _she_ didn't remember it, and _he_ brought it up, that would signal to her that 1. They had kissed, and 2. It was still on his mind, both of which were rather large no-no's.

 _"But does she_ remember _it?"_ he continued thinking. It was agony not to know. If she remembered it, had she liked it? Was it on her mind just as much as it was on his'? Maybe she was aching—craving— _longing_ for another one? Maybe she wanted another one— _right NOW_?

"Hold on," Eleanora said, "your nose is bleeding."

She gave a handkerchief to Sebastian and looked away. Once again, her mind wandered back to that kiss.

 _"Does he remember it?...No, probably not; he was so sick afterwards; besides, he probably hadn't meant it; it was just a combination of relief and sickness that resulted in a sudden display of emotion…"_

It was ridiculous to bring it up. It was ridiculous to even _think_ about it. _Naturally_ he didn't remember it, and even if he _did_ remember it, he probably wasn't caring about it. He would probably laugh at her for being such a silly human—putting such thought into such a tiny, insignificant little thing like a kiss. So she wouldn't bring it up. What kiss? What's a kiss? She wasn't even aware of such things.

 _"I want to kiss her again,"_ Sebastian thought, watching her boil some water at the fireplace in his room for some tea. _"I want to kiss her again…"_

The feeling surprised him—no, it _embarrassed_ him. He was a demon—he _shouldn't_ be feeling something as saccharine as that. Besides, they had already kissed enough: once at their first wedding, once at their second wedding, and now this. That was what—three times? That was more than enough for one lifetime!

He recalled his words to her before, on that first day on that ship. That's right; he hated her. He hated her very, very much. He would always hate her. He married her for…For…For what, exactly? Certainly not for love…He _couldn't_ have married her for love!

Then why did he agree to the matri verum? He couldn't remember, but he _must_ have had a good reason to… _Not_ love. He did _not_ marry her for love. He hated her. He had to remember that. He hated her, hated her, _hated her_ …

But then she turned around and asked him a question in her soft, slightly melodious voice and Sebastian felt his determination to hate slipping away from him. It wasn't fair. She hated him but he was starting to think that maybe he didn't really hate her…If women wanted hate, why did they make it so easy to love them?


	18. Chapter 18

Ciel had been incredibly ill after that trip, but after he had recovered, he immediately wanted to go to that first hospital where the Aurora Society had started out—the place that had started it all.

Sebastian shot it down immediately, which Ciel thought wasn't very obliging of him.

"My Lord, we barely got off that ship alive. And now you want to go right back into another nest of them?"

"I want to know more—no, I _need_ to know more!"

"You're not going."

"I most certainly am!"

Then the butler gave him a very dark look which made Ciel rethink his life decisions.

"... _Can_ I go, _please_?"

"No."

Sebastian was not in a listening mood, and he was definitely not in a cooperating mood. So Ciel had to resort to other, sneakier means:

"Eleanora," he said when the maid arrived with his afternoon tea, "how much do you love Sebastian?"

Eleanora immediately looked up in alarm. Shit, she had almost forgotten—the kid had _also_ seen that damned kiss.

"…Why do you ask?" she finally said, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

"Do you love him enough to happily spend an evening all alone with him?"

" _What_? My Lord, where are you going with this?"

Ciel leaned back in his seat.

"I've convinced Grell to be my butler for an evening. We're going to go and explore that Aurora Society hospital."

Eleanora was silent for a few minutes. And then she said some things, most of which can't be written down, but the main gist of her speech was, " ** _WHY?!_** "

"Because I want to close this case—close it _completely_. And I _can't_ do that if I run away from the source of information."

"Send the butler to do it and stay here."

"He won't do it."

"Order him to!"

"I tried. He said that putting himself in danger is a violation of the contract—he can only do an order if he knows for sure that he'll survive through it."

"Damn demon," Eleanora muttered under her breath.

"I agree," Ciel said, which made Eleanora blush at being heard, "but I have no choice: I have to sneak away and leave Sebastian behind, and he _can't_ know where I am."

"But why _me_? Why don't you make _Grell_ keep him occupied and _I_ can go with you?"

"Because Sebastian can't stand Grell. He'd lock her up in a cellar and go to check on me and once he sees that I'm gone, he'll blow several hundred gaskets."

"But…But…He can't stand _me_ either!"

"You remember that kiss?"

Eleanora got a cold feeling in her stomach.

"…What kiss?" she said innocently.

"When we were all on the lifeboat, Sebastian was so happy to see you that he kissed you. You remember that?"

Eleanora's blush increased.

"…I might remember something along those lines," she mumbled.

"Well, I don't know about _you_ , but that proves to _me_ that he likes you. Or, at least, he doesn't hate you as much as he hates other people, which implies to _me_ that he wouldn't mind spending an evening with you."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Just keep Sebastian distracted for one night—do whatever it takes to keep him occupied."

"What—you mean like dance like a whore, give him unhealthy amounts of wine, jump into the Thames and make him save me?"

"I said to do whatever it takes."

"God help me," she said, looking away.

"So you'll do it then?"

"My Lord," Eleanora said, giving him a wide-eyed, half-terrified look, "do I _have_ to?"

"Yes, you do." Eleanora closed her eyes and placed her hands over her face. " _Pleeeeeze_?"

"Alright, _fine_. But I'd _better_ get compensated for this—and I mean _compensated_."

"If you do this for me, I'll buy you a whole store full of chocolates."

Eleanora licked her lips.

"Gourmet?"

"The finest—straight from Belgium."

"My Lord," Eleanora said, grinning, "you really _do_ know the way to a lady's heart."

That night, a half-hour after Sebastian had helped the young Master to retire, Grell snuck into Ciel's room and got him dressed again. Eleanora was waiting outside the room.

"Are you ready?" Ciel asked her.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she sighed. "I'll go downstairs—he's in the kitchen. You sneak out in fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"Good," Ciel said and Eleanora left.

"I still don't see why _I_ couldn't distract Bassy for a night," Grell said. "I'm _so_ much more attractive than any other _human_ woman."

"I told you—you give Eleanora this night, and I'll give you Sebastian for a _week_."

Grell grinned at this exciting prospect.

"I think I'll make him take me to a beach. Sebastian in a bathing suit— _oooh_!"

"I…did not need—or want—to know that."

Eleanora peeked into the kitchen. Sebastian was cleaning up after dinner—the other servants had already gone to bed.

 _"Well, this is it,"_ she thought and took a deep breath. "M-Mr. Michaelis?"

Sebastian paused in his work and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh—Miss Black." He went back to the dishes. "Can I help you in some way?"

"Uh…No. That is, I was just wondering if _I_ might help _you_?"

"Thank you, but I'm already finished," Sebastian said as he placed the last clean dish away. He leaned against the counter and looked at her. "Shouldn't you be asleep? You're still recuperating from that cruise, you know."

"I know, but I feel so much better. Maybe it's because of your superior nursing skills…" She gave him a big smile and blinked twice.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. 'Superior nursing skills?' Well, he _had_ taken care of her when he had felt able to get out of bed and move around…He had made her soup and had changed her bandages…Piddling things like that—and she thought that they were _superior_?

Eleanora suppressed a shudder as he smiled at her. She still had nightmares about him being her doctor—giving her a sponge bath and shit like that. But she had to press on, even though she didn't really know what she was doing, or how she was going to adequately distract him. She hoped that the young Master and Grell had already left.

Indeed they had—in fact, they were already on the manor lawn when Grell suddenly stopped.

"My _death scythe!_ I forgot my _death scythe_!"

"Well, can't you get on without it for a night?"

" _NEVER_! I _must have_ my _death scythe_! I'll just run back and get it."

" _NO_! _I'll_ get it. I'm smaller than you—Sebastian probably won't notice me skulking around. And if he sees you trying to get your death scythe, he'll get suspicious. Don't go anywhere—I'll be right back."

So saying, Ciel turned and ran back to the manor.

Meanwhile, Sebastian had sidled up to Eleanora and was running his hands up and down her arms, still smiling. Eleanora had never seen a sleazier person in her life, but she still forced herself to keep smiling, keep flattering; praise everything and anything…

"What else?" he kept on asking. "What else?"

Eleanora had run out of compliments about his cooking, cleaning, and hygienic skills; she was forced to start talking about important things.

"And," she said, forcing herself to touch his chest with her fingertips, "and…And you're just always so… _strong_ …"

His eyes gleamed with demonic fire.

"…and so…so… _brave_ …"

Sebastian kept moving closer to her.

"What else?" he whispered. "And what else?"

"And so…so…"

Eleanora stopped tracing her fingers up his neck, which irked him. She was now finding something exceedingly interesting going on behind him, which _really_ irritated him. Just right when they were getting somewhere—right when things were getting interesting…

"Eleanora?" he asked, daring to use her real name. "Eleanora? Is something wrong?"

He tried turning his head to look, but she suddenly gasped and turned his head back to her.

" _NO_! That is, nothing's wrong…Absolutely nothing…"

She laughed and gave him a coy grin. Sebastian felt his annoyance dissipating and his demonic instincts rising up again. He put his arms around her waist and brought her closer to him. She continued smiling and gently touched his face.

"Eleanora…"

"S-Sebastian…"

 _She had used his real name_. He had never been happier in his whole life; he felt as if his feet could just leave the ground and he could fly away…

"Eleanora," he said and he suddenly pulled her even closer to him; his demonic instincts were at their peak; this was it; he was definitely going to kiss her—

There was a clattering sound behind him, as if something had fallen.

"What—"

He turned to look, but at that moment, Eleanora seized his head and violently kissed him.

Sebastian's body immediately relaxed; his euphoria reached an unprecedented level. He gathered her up and deepened the kiss; her lips parted and he slid his tongue into her mouth.

Sebastian wished that this moment could stretch into eternity, but eventually Eleanora pulled away from him, smiling and blushing and panting a bit.

"S-Sebastian…"

"Eleanora!" Sebastian said and tried to kiss her again. She darted away from his arms and whirled around playfully.

"No, no, not here," she said, winking. "Someone might see…"

"Ohh…" Sebastian smirked back at her. "Well, then…shall we go to my room?"

Eleanora laughed and forced back a scream. She had just come up with a plan of distraction—she just really, _really_ hated it.

 _"When the young Master comes back,"_ she thought as the butler closed his bedroom door behind them, _"I'm going to demand_ two _stores of gourmet chocolate—and a pony."_

Grell was still waiting on the front lawn.

"Well? Did you get it?"

"Yes, I got it," Ciel panted, handing over the scissors.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?"

"Sebas-Sebastian almost saw me, but Eleanora stopped him."

"How could he have almost seen you?"

"I tripped," he said sheepishly, but then he was back in control. "But enough of this. Come on—we only have an evening."

"I wonder what Eleanora's doing to distract him," Grell said as they left the manor property.

"I don't know," Ciel said. "Maybe they're playing chess or something."


	19. Chapter 19

It was very interesting to see how three different servants responded differently to the exact same situation. If Ciel had taken Sebastian, he would have just broken down the door and kill anyone who would have distracted him from his goal. If he had taken Eleanora, she would have fallen back and devised a plan—strategy over brawn.

Grell's method was to walk straight into the hospital, check into the front desk, and spend several minutes wandering around aimlessly in the hallways, flirting with the occasional doctor.

"Can we hurry this up, please?" Ciel finally asked. "We're kind of on schedule, here."

"Re _lax_ ," Grell said. "I've got _every_ thing under control!"

"Really? Then can you find me information on the Aurora Society?"

"Certainly! All we have to do is find the Records Room."

"And…Do you _know_ where this room is?"

"I will in a bit," Grell said and stopped another doctor. "Excuse me, but can you tell me where the Records Room is?"

The doctor gave them directions and then Ciel had to practically drag Grell away from him.

"Now, _focus_. It took us too long to get here, and it'll take us too long to get back, and we need to be back before morning."

"But…What exactly are we even _looking_ for?"

"How many times must I tell you? Information on the Aurora Society!"

Grell's eyes rolled, but Ciel was already opening and rifling through file cabinets. Eventually Grell started doing the same.

They searched for as many hours as they could before stopping.

"Any luck?" Ciel asked.

"None whatsoever," Grell said, looking around the room. "And I'm _pretty_ sure we searched _everywhere_. Do you suppose we have the wrong hospital? Or the wrong room?"

"No—I think that this whole thing was a big waste of time," Ciel sighed. "Think about it: why would they let us just walk through a hospital after hours? Why did nobody question us wandering around? And why has nobody stopped us from looking through all of these files?"

"…Disgruntled employees…?"

"…It's because there's nothing here, Grell. Anything so much as _hinting_ to the Aurora Society has either been moved or destroyed—it's probably the first thing the Society did when they realized how much in trouble they were. Come on, let's go home."

"Oh," Grell said. "I'm sorry, Master Ciel."

"It doesn't matter," Ciel shrugged. "I should have anticipated this. I only hope that Eleanora is doing alright."


	20. Chapter 20

Eleanora was not a virgin.

That is to say, she had had intimacy with other men before. She was familiar with the routine; she knew what to do.

Except in this case, that is.

It was incredibly strange. She had never had intimacy like this before. It was strange and powerful and pervasive—completely unlike the raucous nights she had had before. There was no rowdiness or anything really loud and obnoxious and painful—completely unlike what she had expected. She had always thought that demons were really into chains and whips and things.

Instead, it was deep and intense and passionate. There were no hidden acts in it, no feeling of a one-night stand, absolutely no strings attached; it is what it is.

Eleanora had heard that intimacy is the purest form of love, but she had never believed it until now. That was really the best way to describe it: pure.

She was, quite simply, being overrun and caressed with pure adoration.

About halfway through, he told her that he loved her.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she was there, she threw up.


	21. Chapter 21

Ciel Phantomhive was a very, very busy man. Currently, he was trying to balance a pen perfectly on one of his fingers. It was difficult because his hand kept on shaking, no matter how still he tried to keep it.

Normally he wouldn't spend so much time on such a mundane activity, but he was feeling a bit unhappy after last night's failure. He had spent most of the night awake and he hadn't discovered anything—what an enormous waste of time!

He was just about to gripe to Eleanora when she came in with his tea, but decided against it upon seeing her face.

She looked _awful_. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot and she had dark circles underneath them and her neck was covered in bruises.

"What happened to _you_?" Ciel asked before he could restrain himself. "Did you get hit by a train? What happened?"

"Your butler happened," she said sourly.

"What—did he…choke you?"

"Oh, you mean the bruises? No. It's not just on my neck; there's more on my back and stomach…" She saw his expression and cleared her throat.

"But…what _happened_? How'd you get so many of the awful things?"

"My Lord," she said awkwardly. "They're…well…They're _love bites_."

"Oh," Ciel said. "So he bit you?"

"You'll understand when you're older," Eleanora said and then Sebastian walked in.

"My Lord! Good morning!"

Ciel blinked and briefly considered calling the police. Who was this strange man? He _looked_ like Sebastian and he was _dressed_ like Sebastian—but it couldn't _possibly_ have _been_ Sebastian.

For one thing, this man was smiling. No, not smiling— _beaming_. And it wasn't his usual smiles: not his evil demon smirk, or his little mocking leer, or his annoying innocent smile, or that stupid grin he got whenever he saw a cat. No, this was a genuine _beam_. Ciel had never seen his butler look so happy—he was positively _radiant_. Ciel could almost _see_ the good vibes flowing from him.

"You've already gotten the tea?" Sebastian asked, looking at the tray. "Excellent! Perfect. Just wonderful."

And he smiled.

Meanwhile, Ciel was still staring at him as if he belonged in the closest lunatic asylum. Eleanora just looked tired.

"Anyway, you rang for me, my Lord?"

"Er…Yes…It's about these new numbers for Funtom…"

"Certainly!"

Ciel had never seen his butler so enthusiastic about numbers before. In fact, he had never seen his butler look so enthusiastic about _anything_. To be frank, he hadn't even known that his butler could even _be_ enthusiastic.

Eleanora finished preparing his tea and then she went away silently. Sebastian watched her go, smiling softly.

"She's magnificent, isn't she?" he sighed when she closed the door behind her.

"She's…er…what?"

"Glorious. Brilliant. Flawless. Pick an adjective."

"…Are you feeling alright?"

"My Lord," he said, turning that smile to Ciel, "I've never been better!"

Sebastian's good mood refused to dissipate. He remained as strangely cheerful and pleasant for the whole morning. He wasn't even upset when the cook and the gardener accidentally burned down the garden again.

The servants were all outside fixing the ruined plants and the young Master was lying down in his room because he had a headache, leaving Eleanora all alone in the kitchen to make lunch. As she was cooking, she felt somebody touch her hips and then slide closer to her.

"Eleanora," Sebastian cooed and he kissed her neck.

"Yes?" she said tiredly.

"Do you remember what we did last night?"

"How could I forget?"

"I can't stop thinking about it…"

"Neither can I."

"Lady?"

"What?"

He turned her around, smiling.

"Shall we do it again tonight?"

She blinked.

"…What?"

"I said, shall we do it again tonight?"

"Oh," she said and forced a small laugh. "I'd love to; you know that I would, but last night _really_ took it out of me and so I thought that tonight I'd just catch up on my sleep..."

"We wouldn't have to do it all night like last night. We can just do it for half the night, and then you can sleep for the rest of the evening."

He licked his lips, his eyes already turning pink.

"I…don't think so."

"Oh? Why not? Didn't you like it? Didn't you _enjoy_ it?"

"Well…"

His pouty face was slowly turning into a confused one.

"You mean…you _didn't_ like it?"

Eleanora was then, quite literally, saved by the bell. The young Master was ringing for a servant.

" _I'LL GET IT_!" she said in a far-too-eager voice and practically ran for the upstairs, leaving Sebastian standing alone in the kitchen. That excited, happy feeling in his stomach was slowly fading away, leaving behind something that didn't feel half as nice.

 _"She_ did _enjoy it…didn't she?"_


	22. Chapter 22

Unfortunately for Eleanora, Grell had told Madam Red all about the evening, and now both of them wanted details about what she had been doing with Sebastian. And they didn't want just details, they wanted **_DETAILS_**.

"Come on!" Madam Red said in her room. " ** _DETAILS!_** Give us the **_DETAILS_**!"

"Yes," Grell said, lounging on the floor and half-glaring, half-staring at Eleanora. "And leave absolutely none of them out!"

"Leave nothing out, Eleanora!"

"Keep every single disgusting, nitty-gritty **_DETAIL_** in there!"

"Leave absolutely everything in!"

"Okay, _go_!"

" _WAIT!_ "

"What's wrong?"

"We need nourishment! This is going to be an all-night conversation! Grell, go and get as many snacks as possible. Eleanora, tea. And _I'll_ be making this old room friendlier!"

The servants returned a half-hour later, carrying enough food and drink to last a week, and discovered that Madam Red had converted the room to some kind of Persian palace, with pillows and blankets everywhere to ensure maximum comfort.

" _Now_ then," she said, helping herself to a sandwich, " _now_ you can begin!"

"And leave absolutely nothing out!"

"Alright," Eleanora said, feeling more awkward than she had ever felt in her life. She was unaccustomed to sitting down and eating in front of a lady, and even _more_ unaccustomed to talking about her intimate life. "Well, we were in the kitchen…"

"What time?"

"Oh, I don't know…Maybe around eleven?"

"Who was in the kitchen first? You or him?"

"H-He was…"

"And what was he doing?"

"Washing the dishes…"

"How long was he washing the dishes?"

"He finished fairly quickly…"

"How long did it take him?"

"Like…Two minutes, maybe…?"

"Did you say something to him?"

And so it went on.

And on.

And on.

And on.

And _on_. An hour had passed before she was even able to get to the good part.

"So…"

" _So_?!" Madam Red and Grell said breathlessly, hanging on to her every word.

"So…So I lay down on the bed and he took his shirt off…"

" _Ohh…"_ Grell groaned.

"And then he sat down next to me and he pulled off my stockings."

"How'd he do that?"

"Well, first he undid my garters with his teeth…"

" _OooohHHHHhhh_ …"

"And then he just slid the stockings off."

"Also with his teeth?"

"No, he took his gloves off and used his bare hands."

" _OOOOOOooooohHHHHHHhhh!"_

Eleanora shuffled around uncomfortably and ate another cookie.

"Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop for any reason! Just keep going!"

"So then he started pulling my top down…"

" _AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOKKKKKGGGGHHHHH_!"

"Please stop! That's _very_ distracting!"

"Sorry," Grell said, biting into a pillow. "Sorry. I just can't help it—but keep going!"

"And then he unlaced my corset."

"How'd he do that?"

"Just with his fingers, like a normal person."

"So…There was a break while he undid your corset?"

"No—he started kissing my neck at that point. And when he took my corset off, he ran his lips down my back…"

Eleanora's description went on for about three hours, with interruptions. By the end of those hours, Grell had chewed her way through seven pillows.

Once she had finished, and there was nothing else to say, the women were all silent for a few minutes.

"…Wow," Madam Red finally said. "Just…Just… _Wow_."

"I can't stand it," Grell moaned. "I just can't _stand_ it! It should have been _meee_ …"

"Next time, it can be your turn," Eleanora said, resisting the urge to fall asleep. Damn, she was tired…

"And you're _sure_ that's everything?" Madam Red said. "You're _positive_? You left absolutely _nothing_ out?"

"Yes… _No_! I just remembered something else!"

"What? What?! _WHAT?!_ "

"Well…It's a bit embarrassing…"

"We're all ladies here! More than that, we're all _women_! Full disclosure now, never tell anyone else ever again! Come _on_ , what _is_ it?!"

"Well…Somewhere during the middle of it…Right in the heart of it, I mean…"

"Yes? _Yes_?"

"He suddenly stopped and he rolled me over and he looked at me seriously and he said that…"

"He said what? _He said WHAT?!_ "

"He said that he loved me."

Madam Red and Grell stared at her.

"…He said that he… _loved_ you?"

"Yes. In all seriousness."

"But that's…But that's _wonderful_!" Madam Red tackled Eleanora in a hug while Grell looked as if she wanted to kill her. "This is the best news I have heard in a _long_ time!"

"But…But what does it _mean_?"

"It means that he loves you! It means that he really, genuinely, wholeheartedly, uncompromisingly, unconditionally _loves you_!"

"…That's impossible," Eleanora said. "He's a _demon_. He _can't_ love, and he _certainly_ can't love _me_."

"But he just told you that he did!"

"Well…Maybe he was lying!"

"Men don't lie about things like that," Madam Red said. " _Women_ can, _easily_ , but men can't. Something always gives them away when they try to lie about love."

"Nonsense. Men have said that they love a woman when it turns out that they didn't."

"That just means that the woman was too idiotic to recognize the signs. Men just don't lie about love."

"But he's a demon, which means he's not a real 'man,' which means that he can still lie about it!"

"Well, we can table this discussion for now," Madam Red sighed and leaned in. "But what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Do you love him?"

" _NO!_ " Grell said quickly.

Eleanora didn't answer immediately; she bit her lip and looked away.

"I don't know," she finally said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I don't know."

"It's a simple yes-or-no question, Eleanora!"

"But I really don't know the answer." She looked away again. "Sometimes…Sometimes I think that he's not that bad. But then he just goes and does something that makes me so furious, and then I hate him. But then he does something _else_ that makes him seem almost human…But then he goes and does something demonic again…" She groaned and buried her head into her knees. "I really just don't know how I feel about him. That's really all I can say—that's the best way that I can explain it."

"But…But you _must_ love him a _little_ bit!"

"What makes you say that?"

"If you _didn't_ love him, you wouldn't have slept with him, right?"

"Men take intimacy so seriously, it's weird. Women don't treat it _nearly_ as important as men do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You just said that a woman can easily lie about love. So, by that logic, a woman can easily lie about intimacy as well."

"So…So you _didn't_ do it because you _wanted_ to?"

"The young Master ordered me to distract him, and so I did."

"But…But there _must_ be a reason as to _why_ you chose _that_ approach!"

"Do you honestly think I sexed him because I love him?" Eleanora said coldly.

There was a smashing sound behind her. She whirled around and her heart stopped.

Sebastian was standing in the doorway.

He had been carrying a tray with more tea, which he had accidentally dropped. He silently knelt down and began picking up the shattered china.

"Oh, _shit_ ," Eleanora said, staggering to her feet. "Oh, _shit_ ; Sebastian…Sebastian, I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I didn't mean it…I just…Just…"

He rose up again, the broken tea-things on his tray, and then he walked back down the hallway, not moving faster or slower; not looking at anyone; not saying anything.

Just walking.


	23. Chapter 23

Ciel had no idea what was wrong or what had happened, but Sebastian had suddenly burst into his study and said that it was time for him to retire, which it most certainly _wasn't_. He should have had another hour at least, but when he opened his mouth to protest, his butler just lunged for him, tucked him underneath his arm, and took him to his room against his will. And once they were in his room, Ciel was prepared to retire faster than he had ever been before and then dumped into his bed. Sebastian then walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

That was the weirdest part of the whole thing—Sebastian hadn't looked or acted angry at all. His face had been calm—almost serene—throughout the forced bedtime process, and he never slammed a drawer or behaved roughly with him out of anger.

Which only confused Ciel even more as he lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. If his butler wasn't angry, why was he acting so strangely?

Eleanora found Sebastian in his room, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. She had knocked, but he hadn't answered. The door, however, was unlocked, so she took a liberty and went in anyway.

"Hello," she said quietly. He didn't answer her; didn't even look at her as she approached. "Um…How much did you hear?"

"Right around the part where you told the Madam that I had said that I loved you."

Eleanora sucked in one of her cheeks. That was quite a lot of listening in to regrettably-incriminating parts.

"…Look…That is to say, listen…"

"There's nothing left to say," he said, rolling over onto his side, still not looking at her. "You don't love me. That's it."

"I'm…really, really, _really_ sorry…"

"Sorry for what? Sorry that you don't love me? Sorry that you said those things? Sorry that you got caught saying those things?"

"…Yes to all?"

"I don't care anymore," he said, still speaking in an eerily composed voice. "I just don't care."

"You don't care about what?"

"About anything. About you, about our relationship…I'm so tired of it, Eleanora. I'm tired of playing this ridiculous marriage game which will inevitably lead to nothing. It seems that with every step we take forward, we take three steps backwards. If we continue down this road, then, mathematically speaking, we will still get to nothing. So I'm giving up. I just don't care anymore. Go do what you want. Go say what you want. Do anything you please, just leave me out of it."

The telephone rang and he rose up to answer it.

"We tried at this," he said in passing, "and it didn't work. So I'm quitting now before I get hurt some more."

"Sebastian, I'm so, so sorry…"

"Good evening, Miss Black," he said and left the room.

Eleanora stood there for a few minutes in shock. Then she realized that she had no business being in a butler's room all alone, so she went out just in time to catch Sebastian on his return trip to his room.

"That was Lady Elizabeth just now," he said, still with a blank expression, still with a calm tone. "Her maid is sick, but she wants to go to London and she wanted to know if you'd be available as a replacement. Naturally I'd told her that you'll be delighted to assist in her shopping. You leave early tomorrow morning."

Eleanora would normally have protested this, but she decided that now was not the time to do so. She just nodded and stepped aside to let him pass.

It was so strange how these things progressed so quickly. Yesterday she had been loved. And now she was an absolute stranger.

She didn't know which one was worse.


	24. Chapter 24

The day with Lady Elizabeth was not as saccharine as Eleanora had predicted—all she really had to do was carry the shopping bags and occasionally advise the girl on what to buy. Easiest job she had ever taken.

The best part was that it had taken the whole day. Eleanora had just seen Sebastian once, in the morning, and he had behaved coolly indifferent to her—just like the old days, before they had gotten married—before he had tortured her, before she had been bound to Phantomhive.

Before her second wedding, she would have done anything to return to those days of mutual tolerance and acceptance. But now she wasn't so sure. She had been _kissed_ for goodness' sakes. And every woman knows how difficult it is to return to the status quo once one has been kissed.

She wasn't too anxious to return to Phantomhive—actually, she would have been perfectly happy to not have gone back to Phantomhive at all. She sat in the carriage, dreading the return and only listening to the Lady with half an ear. She had bought some kind of blue ring for Ciel in some kind of sleazy store and was gushing over it.

They reached a spot of traffic—construction on the Underground, probably. Nothing too major; over in a bit. Eleanora hid a yawn behind her hand and realized that she hadn't heard the Lady speak in two minutes.

Elizabeth loved talking, so her being silent meant one of two things: she was either upset, or in trouble. And when Eleanora looked around the carriage and noticed that the door was open, she immediately assumed the worst.

She got out of the carriage, quickly paid the driver, and ran off into the night, calling for the Lady. She hadn't gone very far when she noticed a toy shop in the distance.

Toy shops aren't at all rare in London—in fact, they're as widespread as the common garden rock—but this toy shop was unique in that it had a man with an unconscious Lady Elizabeth slung over his shoulder.

" ** _HEY!_** _"_ Eleanora shouted and ran for the shop. "HEY! STOP! STOP AT ONCE!"

She flew through the door and tried kicking the man down. It didn't work, mostly because when her foot came into contact with his back, she realized that there was something wrong.

Most people's backs are slightly soft and fleshy. This is considered normal.

This man's back was strange and hard, like kicking a lump of iron.

 _"Damn!"_

It is unknown what Eleanora meant by this particular "damn"—even she didn't really know why she had said it. Perhaps it was due to the shock of feeling a non-human back against her foot.

Or maybe it was because the man who was kidnapping the Lady was uncommonly handsome.

His hair was a light rust color; his eyes were a beautiful amethyst; his skin was pearly and flawless, like porcelain. His movements were strange and jerky, so Eleanora figured that she could take him on and win. She sprang to her feet and tried kicking him again, this time in the face.

She didn't know how it happened, but he was able to dodge the kick and appear suddenly behind her. He chopped the back of her neck with his hand and she fell unconscious into his arms.

Sebastian received the phone call a few minutes after he received the letter. He took both upstairs to his young Master.

"Elizabeth's disappeared?" Ciel asked.

"Yes—and so has Eleanora," he grudgingly added as an afterthought.

"Well, then, we'd better go find her—them, I mean."

"First you should look at this."

Ciel opened the letter and quickly read it—it was about a new case regarding young, kidnapped girls.

"Do you suppose that…that Elizabeth is one of the victims?"

"Possibly, my Lord," Sebastian said, only he didn't really see how Eleanora could also have been a victim—she was hardly a girl of _twelve_.

"Alright then," Ciel sighed and stood up. "Sebastian, your orders: go and find any information on the kidnapped girls. Question everyone who knew them and compile a suspect list. Understood?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good. Meanwhile, I have business of my own to attend to."

Sebastian nodded and disappeared into the night. His heart was beating quickly, though he didn't know if it was out of fear or irritation—probably irritation.

 _"That…WOMAN!"_ he thought as he ran. _"I tell her to do whatever she wants, and what does she immediately do? Go and get into trouble!"_

But, really, wasn't that always the way with humans?


	25. Chapter 25

Ciel had brought Pluto with him at Sebastian's insistence—and somehow, Grell was able to tag along—and the dog had soon brought him to an out-of-the-way toy shop. Normally, Ciel wouldn't have cared at all about a toy shop (unless it was selling his own products), but this one was interesting because it had two dolls in its front window: the first one looked exactly like Elizabeth. The second one was a bit harder to notice, as it was on top of a music box, but it featured a little doll that looked exactly like Eleanora, dancing with another doll that looked like a man who Ciel didn't recognize—a man with rust-red hair and dressed in blue.

Upon entering the shop, Ciel quickly found a back door which led to a fairy-tale-like mansion—undoubtedly, Elizabeth and Eleanora were inside.

He didn't hesitate for a second; he strode into the mansion, with the dog and the red butler following him.

It hadn't taken Sebastian very long to learn everything that the young Master had asked him to, and it had taken him even less time to find the toy shop in question. He, like Ciel had done before him, had peeked into the shop window before entering the shop itself. Unlike Ciel, he had picked out the little doll that looked like Eleanora immediately, and only noticed the Elizabeth-doll later.

He went inside the shop and picked up the music box with the dancing figures. He wound it up and "London Bridge" started to play. The tiny Eleanora doll and the tiny man spun around on the lid.

Sebastian didn't wait for the song to finish playing; he snapped off the two figures and held them up close to his eyes. Yes, the woman-doll was definitely Eleanora…but she was wearing a fancy blue ball-gown instead of her normal maid attire. He didn't recognize the man at all, but he hated the way that he held the Eleanora. He carefully pried the two apart and tossed the male doll into the nearby stove and watched it melt with satisfaction. He didn't know what to do with the Eleanora doll—he didn't want to just toss it away into the fire, but he didn't really want it to exist, either.

So he found a small box, found a soft black cloth, wrapped the doll in the cloth, put the doll into the box, and then he gave the box a proper cremation in the stove.

There, that was over with. He rose up from watching the fire and went out the back door and found the mansion.

He gave it a quick, demonic once-over—the young Master was inside, as well as some soul he didn't recognize. There was a tower in the distance; he ran towards it.

For some reason, Grell and the dog were standing in front of it, as if waiting for someone. Grell was having difficulty restraining the dog; it kept on trying to run for the door.

The tower itself had another unrecognizable soul inside it. Sebastian turned to leave and search the mansion when he suddenly saw it out of the corner of his eye:

Eleanora's soul was inside the tower.

But why was it so faint? What had happened to her?

Well, at least she still had some strength; if she was on the verge of death, he wouldn't have been able to catch it. But where was the Lady Elizabeth?

He ran back to the mansion to search for her.

Meanwhile, the Lady Elizabeth was on a table in a room inside the tower. She was incredibly weak—so weak that Sebastian hadn't been able to sense her at such a distance. She didn't move at all while the man in blue started working on her.

The man himself was so focused on his work that he didn't notice Eleanora until she had slapped his head with a poker.

He was absolutely unfazed as he turned around; Eleanora lifted it up to hit him again when she stumbled and fell down.

He caught her and held her close. She had fainted from weakness, and she had every right to:

Her soft human body was slowly turning into one of silver and gold.

 **"You—shouldn't—have—done—that,"** the man said in a strange, jerky voice. **"It's—not—good—for—you—to—move—around—so—my—fair—lady."**

He picked her up and placed her on another table, waiting for the process to become complete. Next to the table was an unfinished wedding dress.

 **"We—are—very—very—lucky—my—lady,"** the man said to the unconscious Eleanora. **"My—master—has—given—me—permission—to—marry—you. It's—not—every—day—that—one—meets—such—a—beauty."**

He kissed her on the lips and went back to Lady Elizabeth, humming "London Bridge" under his breath.


	26. Chapter 26

Sebastian was waiting for Ciel at the mansion. He had searched the place top to bottom and hadn't found any trace of Elizabeth.

Which meant, of course, just one thing: she was in the tower with Eleanora.

Ciel had been rather upset that Sebastian hadn't searched the tower immediately, but then again, he also would have been upset if he hadn't searched the mansion immediately either. Being a butler was a lose-lose situation more often than not.

They rendezvoused with Grell and Pluto at the base of the tower, and soon all four of them were running up the stairs, in search of the missing persons.

They found both of them in a workshop at the very top.

Elizabeth was sitting on a chair, her eyes strange and dead with her skin unnaturally smooth and cold to the touch. Eleanora was lying on a work table, wearing a white wedding dress, complete with veil and a bouquet of roses.

Ciel kneeled in front of Elizabeth and tried shaking her awake while Sebastian and Grell attempted to revive Eleanora.

Sebastian had a horrible growing sensation that made his heart feel weak and dead—fear. He had never seen Eleanora's soul so weak before…

"Eleanora…Eleanora! Wake up! ELEANORA!"

Eleanora mumbled an irritated swear word and turned her face away.

Sebastian almost collapsed from relief. At least she hadn't lost her attitude problems.

"Eleanora, wake up! Wake up! Look where you are! Look at what they've done to you!"

He didn't really know who "they" were, but he did know that _someone_ had done _something_ to her.

Eleanora's eyes weakly fluttered open. She stared first at Sebastian, then at Grell. She flung her arm over her face, as if to hide from the horrible sight, and then she stared at her hand—inhuman and wearing a lacy white wedding glove.

"Well," she said weakly, "shit."

She closed her eyes again and then she suddenly sat up and grabbed Sebastian's arm, making Grell yelp from surprise.

"Lady Elizabeth! You have to go and save her. You have to get her out of here…"

"We're getting _both_ of you out of here," Sebastian assured her and was about to pick her up and carry her away when Elizabeth screamed and Ciel shouted.

Somehow, Elizabeth had gotten her hands on a halberd and was now flying through the air, trying to kill the Earl, while also screaming _"NO! NO! NOOOO!"_

Sebastian was forced to abandon his wife and save his young Master, which he couldn't do forever—the room was too cramped for that.

"Look sharp, Grell!"

"I would, but…"

"DAMMIT GRELL THIS ISN'T THE TIME!" Eleanora said, staggering to her feet and giving Grell such a first-class glare that she sprang into action.

She sliced the air above Elizabeth and she dropped the weapon and collapsed onto the floor. Sebastian and Ciel knelt down to investigate, and the butler found a puppet string.

"But who…" Ciel started, "who would do such a thing?"

"He would," Eleanora said, pointing upwards.

And at that moment, all three of them—Ciel, Sebastian, and Grell—were bound with puppet strings.

 **"So—then—I—thought—to—myself—"** the rust-haired man said, standing above them, **"I—have—two—more—dolls—at—my—disposal. What—materials—shall—I—use?"**

"Who are you?" Ciel shouted up at him. "Why are you doing all this?!"

"Why is my wife in a wedding dress?!" Sebastian wanted to know.

"Oh, so _now_ I'm his wife," Eleanora griped to no one.

 **"She's—mine—now,"** the man said. **"My—master—gave—me—permission—to—marry—her. To—have—a—companion—and—a—helper—to—make—dolls—with…"**

Sebastian scowled.

"What master?"

"But why do you want to marry _her_?" Grell asked. "I mean, there are _so_ many _other_ , _far_ more beautiful ladies out there…"

 **"There—is—no—one—more—beautiful—than—my—fair—lady…"**

Sebastian gave a look to Eleanora over his shoulder, as if to say, _"can you believe this moron?"_ and was incredibly dismayed to discover that she was blushing.

"Enough of this!" he said, feeling a swell of something he had never felt before—something thick and bitter and unpleasant. The halberd was lying nearby; he kicked it upwards, straight into the rival's—that is, man's—face.

The man was knocked off-balance and the strings binding them loosened enough for Sebastian to go after him in earnest.

The man fell to the ground and Sebastian was just about to kill him when Eleanora fell down in front of him, shielding him.

"Eleanora! Move."

"No," she said, glaring up at him.

"Eleanora," Sebastian said through gritted teeth, " _please_ move."

"Only if you don't kill him."

"And why shouldn't I kill him? Haven't you seen what he's done to you?"

"And when you tortured me—when you cut off my arm and my leg and took away my womanly parts, only to put them back in again because you're an idiot—did somebody kill _you_?"

Sebastian's eyes flashed.

"…That's different. These are two entirely different circumstances!"

"He's a butler, just like you. And he's a _damned_ good butler, too!"

"You're just saying that because he thinks you're pretty."

"I'm saying that," she said calmly, "he doesn't deserve to die. He was just following orders, just like you. You did something horrible to me because your Master ordered you to, right? And he did the same thing."

Sebastian did not look convinced.

"He's a good butler," Eleanora said. "He'd be an asset to Phantomhive. How many butlers do you know who can make practically indestructible dolls?"

"…She's right," Ciel sighed. "Sebastian, don't kill him."

"But…But he…!"

"That's an _order_."

Sebastian "tch!"ed but he dropped the halberd. Eleanora smiled and rose up, just to collapse again. Sebastian caught her just in time—she was very, very weak.

 **"So—then—I—thought—to—myself—"** the man said, standing up slowly. **"I—must—report—this—to—my—master…"**

He staggered over to a set of double doors and pushed them open. But before he could open his mouth, Sebastian gave Grell a quick head movement and she leapt inside, overturning the lone chair and pinning the man to the floor.

"Don't—" the man gasped, crawling away from her and her scissors, "Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

The doll-man cocked his head.

 **"Master…?"**

"Drocell! Save me! Save me right now!" the man screamed.

 **"You're—not—my—master."**

"Of course I am! Save me _now_! _NOW_ you stupid doll!"

 **"Doll…?"** the man named Drocell said in mechanical confusion. **"I'm—not—a—doll. I'm—a—human…"**

He looked at Eleanora for clarification. She gave him a comforting smile and shook her head.

 **"But—I—always—thought—that—I—was—a—human…"**

"He's cute," Eleanora whispered to Sebastian, "but he's as sharp as a circle, if you know what I mean."

Sebastian stared at her, which indicated to her that he, too, was a few couplets short of a sonnet, but he was mostly wondering why she said that he was 'cute.' Wasn't he 'cute' too? Was being 'cute' a good thing? Why wasn't he 'cute' as well?

 **"You're—not—my—master,"** Drocell continued, pointing at the cowering man. **"You're—not—Lord—Mandalay…"**

"Well, then, if he's not your master…who _is_ he then?" Ciel asked, and Grell pointed her scissors at the man's neck, causing him to scream.

"I-I'm just some toymaker!" he shouted. "I heard this place was abandoned and I had no home to go to, so I figured that I'd stay here for a bit…And then I found the butler...and I fixed him all up again! And then he came back to life…"

Ciel, Grell, and Eleanora looked at Sebastian, who shrugged.

"His soul must not have been collected properly," he said, "and when it thought that its body had come back, it came back as well."

 **"Where's—my—master?"** Drocell asked. **"Where's—Lord—Mandalay?"**

"And then I thought that I'd have some fun," the man continued to babble, "and I thought that I might have some revenge on those horrible people who drove me out of business…so I ordered Drocell to kidnap the girls and turn them into dolls! But I'm so sorry! I won't do it again! Never, never, ever!"

Ciel rolled his eyes at this.

"Grell, could you kindly escort this man and this…butler to Scotland Yard? I think that the police will be _very_ interested in their stories…"

 **"But—what—about—my—master? And—my—fair—lady…I—won't—leave—her—behind."** Drocell tried grabbing Eleanora's hand, but Sebastian moved her out of his reach, scowling at him.

"I can come with you to the Yard," she said, smiling tiredly. "I don't mind…"

" _No_. You're not going anywhere. In fact, _no_ _one's_ going anywhere until we get these two back to normal again…"

" _Look_ …" Ciel gasped and everybody looked. He had been cradling Elizabeth in his arms, and her skin had suddenly turned back to normal—she was human again.

 **"I—did—not—finish—making—them,"** Drocell said. **"When—they're—unfinished—for—too—long—they—change—back…"**

Sebastian was relieved to feel Eleanora's cold, metallic body slowly turning back to her warm, soft, human one in his arms.

"Well, then!" Ciel sighed. "I suppose that's the end of _this_ mystery. Now let's get Elizabeth home and these two to the Yard."

"What about Eleanora? I don't want her to go to the Yard in this state…"

"But I'm _fine_ ," she said, moving away from him and wobbling a bit. "I'll be just _fine_ …"

She staggered and Drocell steadied her again.

 **"I—can—take—care—of—you…"**

Eleanora smiled up at him and Sebastian looked as if he was going to explode with rage.

"Enough of all this," Ciel said, rubbing his eyes. "All of you, let's go."


	27. Chapter 27

Eleanora and Drocell returned the next day—they had left the imposter Earl of Mandalay back at the Yard. Ciel had agreed to allow the doll-butler to remain at Phantomhive for a time, just until they could track down the _real_ Earl Mandalay.

And that, of course, was just perfect for Drocell, but it was absolute torture for Sebastian.

After Eleanora had returned safely—and after a good night's sleep after her ordeal—Sebastian had wanted to return to his earlier angry shunning. After all, she _had_ broken his heart. No, not broken it—

She had ripped it apart, stomped on it, shredded it into pieces, shattered it, crushed it, tore it up, slashed it apart, hacked it into littler pieces, threw it into a cesspool, and then fed to a bunch of rabid dogs with bowel problems, all while laughing without a care.

And _then_ she had broken his heart.

The very _least_ that he could do was give her the cold shoulder for several years or so, and even _that_ was _pure_ mercy compared to what she had done to him. The term "heartbreak" is completely inaccurate— _everything_ hurts when one has been rejected, and it hurts for a very long time with a cold, feverish, stinging, cutting pain that refuses to go away no matter what one does. He had lived a long life and had experienced many painful things, but absolutely nothing compared to what he had felt when he had heard that Eleanora didn't return his feelings at all. He wished that he had known that before he had confessed to her like an absolute moron.

But even confessing to her had been a mistake! He had just gotten caught up in the moment—what with the intimacy and all—and he had made a silly mistake. That was excusable—everybody made mistakes, after all.

If only this mistake didn't _hurt_ so much…

But in any case, he hadn't been in the mood to deal with Eleanora anymore. He was sick and tired of the emotional rollercoaster and he wanted _off._ And just when he was sure that he was well and truly _off_ , this…Drocell comes in and screws him all up again.

The reason why a husband shuns his wife is because he wants her to feel _sad_. He wants her to feel regretful and he wants her to come running back to him with tears in her eyes and beg for clemency so that he can nobly forgive her and then they can kiss and make up and maybe end the tearful reunion in bed. Was that really so much to ask for? _NO_.

And this Drocell was single-handedly ruining it all!

His presence didn't seem to make Eleanora sad—quite on the contrary, it seemed to make her _happy_. And how could she possibly feel regretful and remorseful when she was _happy_?

The whole thing gave Sebastian that strange, thick feeling again—what was it called again? The young Master had called it 'jealousy,' which was absolutely ridiculous. Demons didn't get jealous. Humans got jealous of _demons_ , but demons never got jealous of _humans_. That was sheer nonsense.

He wasn't jealous. He just didn't like some random stranger barging into his life and making his wife laugh and smile. That was the _husband's_ job; that was _his_ job; not some Drocell's!

And if making Eleanora happy wasn't enough, Drocell started interfering with _other_ things too.

One day, Sebastian came up to Eleanora and told her to go quickly into town and pick up some packages for the young Master.

"But how can I carry all of them back here on my own?" she had asked.

"You can take a cab," Sebastian had said, and then he had turned around to resume the shunning process, when he heard that…that… _thing_ Drocell speak up.

 **"I—can—come—with—you—Eleanora."**

"Oh, _really_? _Thank_ you!"

Sebastian tried not to mind that. After all, men could go and help women carry things around. That was a gentlemanly thing to do. It didn't mean that he had ulterior motives, or that Eleanora liked Drocell more than she liked him.

But when they came back, Eleanora was walking with her arm slung through Drocell's.

Sebastian felt a powerful surge of the thick, gross feeling when he saw that. That was _his_ gesture of tolerance. Eleanora did that with _him_. That was _her_ arm which should have been through _his_ '; that was _her_ smile which should have been directed at _him_ , not at some idiot porcelain freak!

It only got worse from there. Eleanora and Drocell would take moonlit walks, arm-in-arm. Drocell would help her with all of her chores and they could almost always be found talking together about this-and-that.

Sebastian wouldn't have minded the moonlit walks if they had been walking a kilometer apart from each other. He wouldn't have minded Drocell helping her with the chores as long as they could do them together in separate rooms. And he wouldn't have minded them talking together as long as they talked exclusively about work-related things, which they basically never did.

This is all a very roundabout way of saying that Sebastian didn't like anything they were doing together—to put it bluntly, he _HATED EVERY SINGLE BIT OF IT._

The feeling of jealousy never left him now, and it was always accompanied by a healthy bit of rage. He hated it when they walked; he hated it when they talked; he hated it when they looked at each other; he even started hating them _breathing_ in each other's direction. He felt like a walking ball of pure, sizzling fury—if emotions could generate electricity, Sebastian could have single-handedly illuminated every room in Buckingham Palace, nonstop, for about a week—and that just on the power of his emotions in a single _hour_.

But despite the intensity of his anger and jealousy in the daytime, all of those would melt away in the evenings, leaving only the quieter, calmer, but nonetheless equally horrible emotion of pure misery.

 _"Why him?"_ he kept on asking himself as he tried to go to sleep, tossing and turning. _"Why him? Why wasn't it me? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it be me? Why him? Why him? Why him?"_

And then the anger and jealousy would resume at full-power in the morning.

One morning, he came into the kitchen just in time to see Drocell bestowing a light but loving kiss on Eleanora's willing cheek.

He was glad when a group of men tried to murder the Earl that afternoon. It helped him vent out his frustration—he just imagined that every would-be assassin was Drocell. It was nothing short of a miracle that any man out of that group managed to survive at all.

He naturally tried making moves on Eleanora; he tried to show her that, a) he still harbored affections for her and b) Drocell was an unworthy idiot who was clearly hopelessly inferior to the perfect, handsome, intelligent, kind, merciful, loving, powerful man who she was already conveniently married to. No matter which way he sliced it, he couldn't understand why so many women continually threw themselves at his feet, willing to do absolutely anything for his love, and the one woman—the _one_ woman who _really_ mattered—liked somebody else. It was simply unthinkable. It was so unthinkable that it had to be some mistake, and he would _prove_ that mistake to her—just as soon as he got her away from Drocell for one-tenth of a second.

Because, of course, one couldn't go around making moves on women when they were clearly in the company of other men. That did absolutely nothing to endear oneself to the lady in question—you had to get the lady alone first, and _then_ show her how wonderful you are.

So Sebastian tried to get her alone with him. He attempted to accomplish this by giving her a whole bunch of random chores and specifying that they were for _one person only_ —i.e., _no Drocells allowed_. And then, once she had gone off to do that chore, he waited for a few minutes and then he would go around the house to where she just "happened" to be, and he would just be "conveniently" there, and so he would offer her his help, because he was there by pure "accident," and then he would be able to wow her, thus permanently winning her and awing her to the point where she would only have eyes for him, and not have any time for some nightmarish living doll.

And it _would_ have been foolproof if the servants had been competent.

And if the young Master had been less brattish.

And if Drocell had been stabbed with a rusty pitchfork and had fallen off a cliff and had gotten devoured by rabid alligators.

Because every time he tried to implement his beautiful plan, something _always_ distracted him from getting to Eleanora punctually, so that by the time he was able to _finally_ go to where she was, Drocell had always beaten him to the punch and was already helping Eleanora—that, or she had already finished and was free to wander around with Drocell some more.

Drocell had been at Phantomhive for some time before Ciel had finally been able to track down the Earl of Mandalay.

"He's in a sanitarium in the country," Ciel told Sebastian. "It's a bit out-of-the-way; plus he's been gone for so long. That's what took us so long to find him."

"So now he can leave?" Sebastian asked, "he" meaning, of course, the dratted nemesis, Drocell.

"No, first I have to write a letter to the sanitarium and ask if we could arrange a visit," Ciel sighed. "And then we have to wait for a reply, and if we get approved, _then_ we get rid of him."

"Why did it have to be _him_?" Sebastian asked under his breath.

Ciel sighed and turned around. They were in his study, but Sebastian had gone to the window and was staring out of it at Drocell and Eleanora, who were walking arm-in-arm and laughing. Then Drocell put his arm around Eleanora's waist and pulled her a bit closer to him and she smiled and didn't push him away.

Sebastian had been breathing in a very hot and heavy manner, to the point where he had fogged up the window. He looked a bit like a bull.

"Why _him_?" he asked again. "Why did it have to be _him_?"

Ciel rolled his eyes at this. Sebastian had gotten into the habit of asking this question five times a day per person, and he was sick of hearing it. He apparently didn't like Ciel's previous answers, which included: he's nicer than you; he's more respectful than you; he's handsomer than you; he's politer than you; he knows how to actually treat a lady right and Eleanora just likes him better than you.

"I don't know; maybe it's because of his hair color."

Sebastian scoffed at this.

"My Lord, that's ridiculous.

 _"María,"_ he thought as he left the room, _"that's brilliant!"_

 _"No, it's not,"_ he told himself as he made dinner. _"It's preposterous."_

 _"No, it's genius! Why didn't I think of it before?"_

 _"Eleanora isn't so base as to love someone for their_ hair color _."_

 _"Why not? She's a woman, and woman care about silly things like that."_

 _"But I'm a man, and I_ don't _care for silly things like that."_

 _"_ IT'S BECAUSE OF HIS HAIR COLOR _. It HAS to be!"_

Yes, women do care about silly things like hair color, it's true. But men take that silliness to a whole new level.

And Sebastian was a man first, and a demon second.

The next day, he had gone shopping with Eleanora—and Drocell, but only because he insisted on tagging along and it would have looked too obvious if Sebastian had said "like HEAVEN you're coming with us!" Above all else, Eleanora must _never_ know that he was jealous. She would immediately lose respect for him if she ever found out. And he was pretty pleased with himself that he had been able to keep it a secret for so long.

He had been lagging behind the chatting Eleanora and Drocell—kind of like a third wheel—when his eye fell upon a stall selling various hair dyes.

"I'm just looking," he assured the woman selling the product, and he picked up a box—GUARANTEED TO MAKE YOUR HAIR A BEAUTIFUL ROSE RED, or so it claimed.

But this was ludicrous. He didn't want to dye his hair. He liked his hair color—black was an excellent shade for simply everything. And besides, what if he didn't look good as a redhead? He didn't even _like_ redheads. He didn't know if _Eleanora_ liked redheads or not…What was he even doing, looking at this stuff? Just drop the box and walk away. If a woman wanted you to change for her, she clearly wasn't worth your time. But then again, Eleanora hadn't said that she wanted him to change for her—he was changing for her because _he_ wanted to, not because she had requested it. And maybe she would be blown away by the gesture—so thoughtful, so romantic!—that she would fall in love with him immediately. It was worth a shot, anyway.

No. No it wasn't. He was not going to dye his hair. Only fops like Drocell did that, and he was a gentleman. He set the box down and prepared to walk away.

Right in time to see Drocell buy Eleanora some fancy little trinket, and right in time to see her gasp in joy and stretch up and kiss his cheek.

Sebastian immediately turned around and plunked some money onto the table.

"Keep the change," he said and pocketed the hair dye, his face burning up. He would try it tonight—try it immediately after everyone had gone to sleep.

 _"Only,"_ he thought as they went back to Phantomhive, _"only I won't dye my hair_ completely _red. I have more self-control than to do_ that _. I'll just dye it a_ little _bit—just to get a slightly red sheen. I won't go completely overboard…It'll be fine. It'll be great."_

He smirked to himself as he watched Drocell help Eleanora up into a cab.

 _"Just wait, you horrible little mutant puppet—I'll win this war yet."_

He was so happy that he only "accidentally" kicked Drocell a little bit in the cab when he saw him smelling Eleanora's hair.


	28. Chapter 28

The Undertaker was woken up in the middle of the night by somebody shaking his shoulder and hissing his name incessantly.

"Undertaker! Wake up. _Undertaker!_ "

The Undertaker groaned and rolled over and was about to go back to sleep when somebody grabbed the blankets and yanked them off of the bed in one swift movement, thus yanking him off as well.

" _OW!_ What the _he_ …?"

" _UNDERTAKER!_ Wake up!"

"I'm up; I'm up! Good _god_ , what is it that is so important that it requires such a rude awakening at such an unreasonable hour of the night?"

"My _hair!_ "

"Your _hair_?!"

The Undertaker blinked the sleep out of his eyes and stared up at the person in confusion. They were tall, familiar-looking, and were clutching their hair in desperation.

"My _hair_!" Sebastian said again. "Look at my _hair!_ "

"What's _wrong_ with your hair?" the Undertaker yawned, slowly sitting up and fumbling for a light switch. "Don't tell me that you've done something boneheaded again?"

" _NO!_ Don't turn on the lights!"

"But if I don't turn on the lights, how will I be able to see your hair?" he said impatiently, and accordingly illuminated the room. He turned around to look at the elegant Phantomhive butler, and his sentence died in his throat.

"…Sebastian," he finally said. "What did you do to your hair?"

"What does it _look_ like I did? I _dyed_ it!"

"But why in the flamin' hell did you dye it _THAT COLOR_?!"

"I didn't _KNOW_ that it would turn out to be this way! I don't understand what went wrong; I followed all of the instructions on the box to the letter and I did everything that I was supposed to do so why did it turn out this way?!"

"Alright," the Undertaker said, running his hand through his own, thankfully-normally-colored hair. "Okay. Let's just calm down for a bit. This is perfectly normal…"

" _NORMAL?!_ In what WAY, in what WORLD, could this POSSIBLY be defined as 'NORMAL?!'"

"No, no, it's okay; it's completely fine; this is absolutely normal…"

" _How_? Explain yourself."

"It's _completely_ normal. _Lots_ of young men do this sort of thing."

"They what? They _do_? _Really_? You mean this happens a _lot_?"

"Of course! All the time! They feel that there is something missing in their life–or they want a change—or they want to rebel against their cruel society—and so they do something wild and outrageous! Some pierce their lips, some cut their tongue, some dye their hair an unusual colour…"

" _WHAT?!_ You mean you actually think I _WANTED_ it to be like…like _THIS_?!"

"…But don't worry!" the Undertaker continued in false cheerfulness. "Soon you'll see thousands of other gentleman walking around with hair…like…that. You'll start a new fashion statement! We'll call it…'young punk.'"

"We'll call it 'imbecilic demon.' I did _NOT_ want it to be this way!"

"You could pull it off! It looks…um…attractive…"

The Undertaker couldn't even say it with a straight face; he had to look away, shoulders shaking.

"Are you… _laughing_? Are you _laughing_ at me? Are you _laughing_ at _this_?!"

"No, I'm not. I'm serious! Besides, lots of young women are attracted to rebels…"

This put an entirely new spin on things. Sebastian tilted his head, considering this.

"They are? _Really_?"

"R-R-Really," the Undertaker said, choking with suppressed laughter. "They l-l-love them…!"

Sebastian's eyebrow started twitching.

"B-But…But…YOUR _HAIR!_ "

And the first shock of the situation wore away, leaving only the humor, and the Undertaker collapsed onto the floor and started rolling around with glee. Meanwhile, Sebastian had crossed his arms and started tapping his foot.

"Y-Your _hair!_ " the Undertaker couldn't stop saying. "It's...It's…p…p…"

"It's _pink_ ," Sebastian said coldly. " _Thank_ you; I've noticed that."

It wasn't even a _nice_ pink, or even a _light_ pink—something that could be easily passed off as a trick of the light or an allergic reaction or something similar. No, it was the brightest, most horrible shade of neon pink that had ever existed or ever would exist—or so Sebastian thought. His rational butler mind seemed to have shut down, leaving only the panicky, murderous demonic one.

Even now, while he was impatiently waiting for the Undertaker to calm down, he couldn't understand what had gone wrong. He had read and re-read the instructions on the dye box several hundred times. He had carefully applied the dye to his hair, had waited for fifteen minutes, and then he had washed it out. At first, he had tried to be very careful and only added a _little_ bit of dye to his hair—just to get that aforementioned red sheen to his black hair. But the dye seemed to be _very_ thin, and in order to ensure that he was truly getting a head of red hair, he started applying a bit more and a bit more until he had actually used up the whole bottle.

And rather than getting upset, he had just shrugged and had dutifully waited his fifteen minutes.

 _"After all,"_ he thought, _"maybe I'll get_ another _type of red—a type of red so dark it'll still seem black."_

And that didn't seem so bad at all.

Everything had been going great until he had finished his shower and had stared at himself in the mirror.

His hair—instead of being the red sheen or the dark red that he had so wanted, instead of being the rose-color that the box had promised, instead of being anything even _remotely_ resembling the color 'red,'—his hair was _pink_. It practically illuminated the whole bathroom with its neon glow—it didn't really _attract_ attention; it _commanded_ it.

Sebastian had stared at his head in shock. And then, once his first impressions had died out, he screamed.

Which naturally brought the whole household hammering on his door.

Among them was Eleanora.

"Is everything alright? What happened? Can I come in?"

" _NO!_ " Sebastian had said and he had hurled himself against the door to prevent anyone from barging in and seeing his disgrace. "Everything's fine; just fine; nobody come in here!"

Fortunately, his bathroom was connected to his bedroom, so he was able to stay there until everyone had gone back to bed. Then he had gotten dressed and had gone directly to the Undertaker for help.

"What am I going to _do_?" he asked once the Undertaker had conquered his hysteria. "What am I going to _do_? I can't go back like _this_! I'm the _butler_ for María's sake; if I go back with my hair such a color…"

"Why did you even do it?" the Undertaker asked. "What on earth _possessed_ you to do such a thing?"

Sebastian shuffled around a bit awkwardly. He normally would have said something noncommittal, like "nothing," but that would have been a blatant lie, which he, of course, couldn't tell.

The Undertaker quickly figured it out despite his silence—or maybe because of it.

"Let me guess," he sighed, "your reason starts with an E and ends with an A and has a 'leanor' somewhere in the middle of the two."

Sebastian still didn't say anything.

"I can't believe that you would do something so moronic just to impress your wife. I had really thought that you had more sense than that."

"Shut up. You would have done the same."

"No, I would not have. I would not have dyed my hair _pink_ to impress a girl."

" _IT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE PINK_."

"Well, then, what color was it _supposed_ to be?"

"R-Red," Sebastian said sheepishly.

" _RED_?! Why of all colors _red_? You don't even _like_ red hair!"

"I thought…I thought that…"

"Well, _stop_ thinking. You young men are all the same! You'd do anything to get a smile out of the object of your affections, and that inevitably results in something stupid happening to you—stupid mostly because, with a little bit of common sense, it could have been _easily_ prevented!...No, but that hair truly is _horrible_ ," the Undertaker said, giggling a bit again.

"Yes, I know that. But why did it happen?"

"You must have messed up the dye job somehow."

"I did _not_. I read the instructions _very_ thoroughly."

"Then why did it turn out that way?"

"If I knew _that_ , I wouldn't even _be_ here, now would I? But never _mind_ why it got this way! What's important is how I undo it!"

"You _can't_ undo it. You have to dye it black again."

Sebastian took several steps backwards, clutching his hair protectively.

"I don't know what else to do with it! It'll take some time for your roots to grow out, so unless you want to spend a month with pink hair, your only _real_ option is to dye it black."

Sebastian winced, considered things, and finally nodded.

"Alright. Could you please run out and get me some more dye and then I'll…"

" _No_. _You're_ not doing _anything_. If there's any dying to be done, _I'll_ be doing it. Who knows what color your hair will turn out if you do it wrong again?"

"But I _didn't_ do it _wrong_!"

"Of _course_ you didn't," the Undertaker said, patting his arm soothingly. "Now just wait here; I'll be back in a moment."

Fifteen minutes later, he came back with three bottles of black hair dye.

"Just in case we need more than one bottle," he explained in the bathroom. "We're going to need a _lot_ of this stuff to cover all these…problem areas."

Sebastian didn't say anything throughout the whole dying job. The Undertaker, as expected, used up all three bottles to make sure that all trace of the pink was eliminated. They waited for half-an-hour instead of the usual fifteen minutes, just to make sure that the dye would _really_ soak in, and then Sebastian took a shower.

The Undertaker was called up to the bathroom after he was done.

"Well? How is it? Is it black again?"

Sebastian stepped out of the tub and the Undertaker's mouth dropped open. In fairness, his hair was no longer a vibrant neon pink.

No, it was now the charming green color that occasionally accompanies vomit.

The Undertaker stammered out some words while Sebastian approached him, cracking his knuckles.

"So," he said in a soft, dangerous voice, " _I_ messed up the dye job, did I? _I_ did it wrong, hmm?"

"We—can—fix—it," the Undertaker choked out, his face already turning red.

" _HOW_."

"I'll—go—see—if—there's—some—unholy—dye. Meanwhile, you—try—and—wash—it—out!"

The Undertaker fled downstairs and soon the whole house was shaking with his laughter.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and got back into the bath. He used up all of the Undertaker's shampoo, conditioner, soap, body wash, shaving cream, and any other body-cleaning product that he could find. And when he ran out of _that_ , he started looking for more…creative alternatives.

He found some toilet cleaner in the bathroom, so he used that. He found some disinfectant, and he used that. He found some bleach, but he didn't use _that_ , as he didn't want his hair to come out a sick white.

But he used everything else: dish soap, hand soap, turpentine, bathroom cleaner, floor polisher, baking soda, charcoal, ash, gin, brandy, a half-filled bottle of vodka, vinegar, tea, some kind of carbonated drink, various forms of acid, mortuary disinfectants, ancient perfume, cologne, aftershave; anything and everything that he thought could help clean his hair, he used, and he used up _everything_. Soon the bathroom was littered with empty bottles and cartons and boxes.

The house smelled decidedly odd when the Undertaker returned with nothing. His stomach filled with dread as he knocked on the bathroom door.

"Sebastian? What did you do _now_?"

The door opened, and the Undertaker couldn't decide what looked worse—the bathroom or the butler.

The bathroom, as aforementioned, looked like some sort of demented junkshop. But Sebastian, all things considered, looked worse.

His skin was irritated from the acid and the real human alcohol which he had used—which he, of course, was wildly allergic to—and his hair had not become any better from the treatment. If anything, it looked even worse than before.

When pink and green mix, they usually come out as brown. In some cases, they make a very nice brown—kind of auburn-like, really. But when one mixes a horrible pink color with a horrible green color, it can be expected that the result will be a horrible brown color.

And it was even worse in Sebastian's case: the top of his head was still green, but then it went into that horrible brown, but the ends of his hair were still bright pink.

"…You look like a clown gone terribly, terribly wrong," the Undertaker said. This was past laughing—this was past frustration and getting upset—he was actually starting to feel a bit impressed. Who knew that a demon butler—a _butler_ , of all things!—could do so many brainless things in one night? "What'd you do—wash it with turpentine or something?"

Sebastian nodded and grimly held up the now-empty turpentine bottle. The Undertaker's eyes popped out of his head.

"WHY IN THE TEN HELLS DID YOU DO SUCH A THING?!"

"It said that it dissolved things," Sebastian said, staring at the box, "so I naturally thought that it could dissolve the hair dye, too…"

"Do you realize that that stuff is _nasty_? What else did you put into your hair?"

Sebastian gestured to the mess all around.

"Everything that you see, I used."

"You mean…?" the Undertaker said in growing horror as his eye fell on a bottle, which had been formally filled with a substance that he had used to clean his drains. "You mean…You poured _all_ of this on your _head_?!"

"And scrubbed it in, yes. Why?"

"Sebastian, do you realize that these things could _kill_ you?!"

The butler scoffed at this.

"It's a miracle that there's still hair on your head at all! No, it probably can't even be considered 'hair' now—you probably damaged it to no end." The Undertaker sighed and left the house again. He didn't return for quite a while, but this time around, he came back with several things in a shopping bag.

Sebastian was still sitting in the bathroom, trying to see if there was anything left in the bottles to use for his hair. He rolled his eyes upon seeing the Undertaker take out a razor.

"Please. It's not _that_ bad that I'm going to kill myself over it…" His voice died out when the Undertaker brought out a can of shaving cream. " _NO!_ No, I am _NOT_ cutting my hair off!"

"Sebastian, it's not even _hair_ anymore! With all the garbage you put on it, it's just a chemical battlefield! If we don't shave it, it's just going to fall out anyway."

Sebastian scoffed again and twisted a lock of his hair around his finger to show how strong it was.

"Please. A little acid in the hair isn't going to do anything to hurt it…"

The lock that he was playing with quietly fell out of his hair and into his hand. He stared at it in shock—he hadn't even pulled it out or applied pressure to it; it had literally just _fallen out_.

He silently sat down in front of the Undertaker, who started applying shaving cream onto his head.

"I think I know why your hair can't be dyed," the Undertaker finally said.

"Oh really? Why?"

"Isn't there something in your bible that says that changing oneself in any way is a sin?"

Sebastian was about to refute this when he remembered. There was indeed a passage in the Unholy Gospelle which clearly stated that physically changing oneself was a moral and religious crime.

"So what? You think that I've been _cursed_?"

"No, I think that you unholies have different hair than ours," the Undertaker mused. "It looks like hair and it acts like hair but it must have a different composition—it reacts negatively to chemicals like hair dye. That's why, whenever we tried dying it, it came out the wrong color."

"You mean," at this Sebastian perked up, "you mean that if I used, say, _blue_ hair dye, my hair might come out _red_?"

The Undertaker had started shaving Sebastian's hair off, and he "accidentally" nicked his scalp upon hearing this.

 _"OW!"_

"Don't struggle," the Undertaker growled, and soon all of Sebastian's hair—once so fine and prized, now so atrocious and damaged—was in the sink instead of on his scalp, which was indeed bright red and inflamed with irritation.

"So I'm bald now," Sebastian said, staring gloomily at his reflection. "What do I do _now_?"

The Undertaker reached into his shopping bag and pulled out two more things: unholy medicinal salve and unholy hair restoration tonic, because altering one's hair color was a sin, but the desire to not lose hair was not.

He smeared the salve onto Sebastian and then bandaged it up.

"I think that you should stay here for a couple of days—just until your hair grows back," the Undertaker said. "We won't put anything else on it _now_ , as I think that'll do more harm to your skin than good, but unholy tonic works wonders. I'm sure that in a week or two your hair will be back to normal."

"A _week_ or _two_?!" Sebastian's mind immediately flashed back to Eleanora and Drocell—if he was gone for a week or two, they would only get closer and closer until there would be no more room for _him_! "I can't stay here for a week or two!"

"It's either that or you go back to Phantomhive looking like a failed lobotomy patient. Or I could run out and buy you a wig!"

Sebastian actually seriously considered this option before the Undertaker told him that he was _not_ running out in the middle of the night again. Then he slowly resigned himself to his fate of staying at the Undertaker's for a week—and all because of some hair dye.

The first day was spent trying to heal his scalp—this was accomplished by the Undertaker tying him up in a chair and applying the salve every half-hour. The chair-tying was because the skin had started peeling from his head, and Sebastian had started trying to scratch it off, which a) wasn't good for his head, and b) made the Undertaker feel ill to look at it.

Unholy salve, like unholy tonic, also works wonders, so by the second day, his head was completely fine and the Undertaker could start the re-growing process. The salve and the tonic were applied every hour.

Sebastian's hair started growing by the third day so it looked as if he had a buzz cut. And so on and so forth, until by the seventh day his hair had reached down to his shoulders. The Undertaker had spent several minutes wondering how to cut it, but Sebastian just bunched it up, got a knife, and sliced several inches off of it. His hair then fell down as it used to, with his bangs falling around his face. He looked absolutely normal after he had cut his hair—it was as it used to be, strong and glossy black, as if it had never changed; as if it hadn't been dyed twice and then subjected to all sorts of chemical interrogations, only to be shaved off and then regrown.

Sebastian thanked the Undertaker for everything and tried to pay him for his trouble.

"Oh, no!" the Undertaker assured him. "You've paid me quite enough already—when I just think of you with that pink hair…!"

He started laughing again and as Sebastian turned to leave, his eye fell upon his reflection. He stared at himself for a time, musing, before finally saying,

"…I wonder if I would look good as a blonde…?"

The Undertaker immediately stopped his giggling and said in a deadpan voice,

"If you come in here with your head a piss-yellow, I'm not helping you again."

Sebastian left awfully quickly after that.


	29. Chapter 29

Ever since the monsters from the primordial ooze realized that there are, indeed, different creatures that are commonly referred to today as "Men" and "Women," there have been rules for courtship. Society provides quite a lot of these rules: for example, a man can talk to a woman, but only after he has been introduced to the woman by another, preferably older man who knows both the man and the woman, and if both the man and the woman are in the proper social situation, usually where they're both surrounded by other people so that there is no horrible hanky-panky going on without anybody else noticing.

As if society didn't have enough rules for courtship on its own, men and women have their own different guidelines. Suppose that two women are pursuing one man, and one woman is suddenly temporarily removed from the scene. The woman who remains has two options: she can either freely pursue the man while her rival is absent, thus proving herself the lesser lady; or she can wait for the other woman to return so that the fight can continue fairly, thus keeping things interesting and giving both ladies an equal chance to win the man's heart.

But suppose that two men are pursuing one woman, and one man suddenly mysteriously vanishes for a week. What does the remaining man do? Does he wait for the enemy to return, thus levelling the playing field? Or does he freely pursue the object of his affections, happily unhindered by the other dominant male?

Women think that courtship is a fight; a fight that can be either easily won or lost, it doesn't necessarily matter which. Either way, another member of the masculine persuasion will come along shortly, and there is nothing to worry about. Men think that courtship is a War, which will essentially determine the Fate of the Universe and All of its Inhabitants depending on if it is Won or Lost. It is no coincidence that the person who said "all's fair in love and war" was a man.

So what does that man do—the one who is battling another man over one woman?

It didn't take very long for Drocell Keinz to decide: naturally, he would freely pursue the object of his affections, happily unhindered by the other dominant male! Only a complete moron would pick the other option! He had an advantage and he would _use_ it, dammit!

Not that he told Eleanora this, of course. Women very rarely understand why it's so important for a man to have THAT _ONE_ WOMAN, especially as they know that women aren't exactly an endangered species.

But returning to the original point: as soon as Drocell realized that Sebastian was unavailable, it did not take him very long to increase his wooing efforts in regards to Eleanora. He knew that Sebastian couldn't be gone _forever,_ and that eventually he would return, and he would undoubtedly want to make up for lost time, so he (Drocell) would have to work fast. Because, even though Drocell was a doll with a head stuffed with straw, he was still able to recognize Sebastian's previous efforts to get his wife back, thus, getting her away from Drocell, and he liked that just as much as Sebastian liked Drocell flirting with Eleanora.

Unfortunately for Sebastian, Drocell had been pulling ahead in the race for quite some time, mostly due to two things:

1) Eleanora thought that Drocell was more physically appealing than Sebastian,

and,

2) Eleanora hated Sebastian.

So the odds were against the demon butler right from the start. And him being gone for one week didn't really help him much either, especially as Drocell (unlike Sebastian) knew how to win a woman's heart.

Women really just want three things from men: kindness, consideration, and respect—all qualities which Sebastian was tragically lacking in. For a demon, "kindness" meant giving someone a painless death; "consideration" meant not devouring someone's soul at a wedding, and "respect" meant not referring to your human wife as "Hey You Numbskull" all the time.

A human would not really see these interpretations as very kind, considerate, or respectful at all, but regrettably, Sebastian was actually more kind, considerate, and respectful than most other demons, which should give one an indication as to what Drocell had to beat—which was, namely, not much.

Naturally women don't consider demonic understandings of kindness, consideration, and respect to be very romantic or very nice or really very appealing in any form or sense of the word, and so Drocell was able to pull ahead _again_ simply because he wasn't a demon.

And then, once he was able to work his magical, kind, considerate, and respectful powers on Eleanora, that was essentially it for Sebastian. An intelligent person would have dropped out of the race at this point, but Sebastian was firstly, not a person, and secondly, in love; and love, as everybody knows, is the best way to successfully eradicate the slightest trace of anything distantly resembling "intelligence."

So when Sebastian came back from his mysterious week-long mission, and saw that Eleanora was leaning more towards Drocell than towards him, he didn't back down. Quite on the contrary, his efforts increased.

Mathematically, statistically, logically, the odds had been against Sebastian from Day One, but he had something that Drocell didn't, and he wasn't even aware of it until that first day back at Phantomhive.

He was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, when Eleanora came down and saw him.

" _Oh!_ _There_ you are! I was wondering when you'd come back…Where have you been? What happened to you? Are you alright?"

As she said this, she moved closer to him and stared deep into his eyes in concern. She didn't know where he had gone and why he had left, but she _did_ know that he had been screaming in the bathroom, which indicated to her that there had been a problem.

"I'm fine," Sebastian said, resisting the urge to tug at his hair, just to make sure that it was still strong and black. "Everything's fine."

"Where were you?"

"I was…at the Undertaker's."

Normally he would have lied, but Contracts were always inconvenient at the very worst of times.

"What were you doing there?"

"I had to take care of…a personal emergency."

And _this_ is where he finally got ahead of Drocell in one regard. Drocell himself was sitting at the kitchen table. He had snorted unprofessionally upon hearing "personal emergency," which doesn't sound very brave or awesome or worthy of feminine interest to a male.

But to a _woman_ …!

Most women make excellent mothers. They make excellent mothers from the day of their birth to the day of their death, even if they have never had any prior experience with children. They have irrepressible "motherly instincts" which always make them want to jump in and help when they learn that someone is hurt or in a bad situation.

And Sebastian had been hurt _and_ in a bad situation _at the exact same time!_

And so Eleanora's "motherly instincts" immediately sprang into action and told her that this was a man who desperately needed to be pitied and loved and fawned over, which is precisely what she began to do.

"Poor thing," she said in genuine sympathy, and she even stroked his shoulder a bit. "Are you hurt? Was it traumatic? Are you _sure_ that you're absolutely alright?"

Sebastian couldn't speak for several seconds. This was going against everything his brain was telling him: personal emergencies, especially embarrassing ones, were meant to be hushed-up and never spoken of again, specifically in front of beautiful ladies, because beautiful ladies were not typically interested in the time one had to go to the hospital for trying to adopt a clearly-rabid cat (which nobody could prove had actually happened, by the way).

And yet here she was, smiling up at him in a loving manner and cuddling up to him.

"Poor thing," she kept saying. "You poor, darling dear…"

 _Poor darling dear_! Sebastian couldn't help but shoot a triumphant look at the stunned Drocell, whose mind had been thinking the exact same thing about the beautiful ladies.

"But what _happened_?" Eleanora was saying now. "Did it hurt? Did it hurt a _lot_?"

"Actually," Sebastian mused, "it _did_. It hurt very, very much." He wisely chose to not mention that his scalp had hurt because he had tried washing it with drain-cleaner.

" _Ohh!_ " Eleanora said, and she helped him sit down at the table and even started massaging his shoulders a bit. "Can I get you something? Don't get up; you shouldn't be working…But what _happened_?"

 **"Yes—what—happened?"** Drocell asked irritably, insanely jealous that _his_ woman— _HIS_ woman!—was hand-feeding his rival—the _ENEMY_ — homemade cookies which she had made last night.

"Oh, you know," Sebastian said, waving aside Drocell and giving Eleanora a sad, puppy-dog look, "I just got involved with some chemicals…" Which technically wasn't a lie.

" _Chemicals_?!" she gasped and poured him some more tea. "How'd you do _that_? Were there a _lot_ of chemicals?"

"Enough to sting," Sebastian said, unable to believe this miraculous change in fortune. Yesterday he was an idiot who had dyed his hair pink. Now he was a hero, and who didn't love a hero?...Well, apparently Drocell Keinz didn't love them, but to Heaven with him! _Eleanora_ liked them, and that was the most important part. "It was like a chemical battlefield." This, also, was not technically a lie, as the Undertaker _had_ said so.

 **"But—what—was—like—a—chemical—battlefield?"** Drocell suddenly wanted to know.

"I almost thought my skin would _never_ grow back," Sebastian said to Eleanora, ignoring the question.

 **"Skin—wouldn't—grow—back—where?"**

"Yes, where?" Eleanora suddenly also wanted to know, which Sebastian thought was rather a pointless question which didn't really need an answer. "Where exactly did you get these chemicals? On your hands?"

Sebastian shuffled around nervously in his seat. This was a direct question, and he couldn't really avoid it without seeming suspicious.

"On…On my scalp," he finally said.

Drocell snorted again at this. Eleanora silenced him with a glare, but when she turned to look at Sebastian again, he could tell that those loving motherly instincts were starting to question the validity of his illness.

"How'd you get chemicals on your scalp?"

"It happens sometimes," he said and tried to change the subject. "You're looking wonderful today, Eleanora. I haven't seen you in forever…I've missed you quite a lot, you know…"

"No, butler, you don't just get chemicals on your scalp for no reason," Eleanora said, who hadn't been paying attention to his following sentences. "Did somebody dump them on you by accident? Where you at a chemical factory and there was an accident? How'd you get them on your head?"

"I…I put them there," Sebastian said in a voice that was so low it was practically inaudible.

"You put _CHEMICALS_ on your _HEAD_?! _WHY_?!"

A woman's motherly instincts are very selective in what they find pitiable. If somebody goes to the hospital, they deserve love and tender care. If somebody goes to the hospital because they were dared to step out onto oncoming traffic, that does _not_ deserve love and tender care. To summarize, if a person gets hurt because they were doing something stupid, women do not find that very appealing.

Sebastian was very quickly learning this, and he was struggling to phrase his recent adventures in a way which somehow made him seem like a Knight in Shining Armor, rather than an Idiot Butler With No Experience In Regards To Hair Dye.

"I…I got something horrible in my hair, and I was trying to wash it out again…"

"So you used _chemicals_?"

"Apparently!" he said in pseudo-brightness. "Darling, I _really_ should get back to breakfast, you know…"

"What'd you get in your hair?" He didn't answer and she rephrased the question. "What did you _put_ in your hair?"

"Ah…Nothing of importance."

" _Sebastian_ ," she growled, leaning in dangerously, " _what the ! did you put in your hair?"_

"H-Hair dye…"

Eleanora stared at him for a bit. Then she rose up, sighing, and left the kitchen. Both Sebastian and Drocell could hear her audibly say in the hallway,

"My god, I married a !ing _moron_."

Drocell waited until she was gone completely before bursting into raucous, mechanical laughter. Sebastian stood up and went back to cooking breakfast, painfully aware that his face was turning bright red with embarrassment and shame. Morons were _not_ handsome Knights in Shining Armor, and most people would much prefer to be swept off of their feet and carried into the sunset by a handsome Knight in Shining Armor rather than a Moron.

 **"H-H-Hair—dye!"** Drocell was saying, barely able to speak. Sebastian glared at him and Drocell suddenly turned serious. He knew that glare—it was the glare of someone who had been cruelly wronged, but they're still not going to surrender. On the contrary: they're going to fight even harder, now—they will not rest until there is a definite— _definite_ —victor, and they're going to do all that they can to make sure that that victor is _them_.

All's fair in love and war, and this love was very quickly spiraling into a full-scale war.


	30. Chapter 30

Ciel was actually enjoying the fight between Sebastian and Drocell. He, personally, didn't understand the point of the whole thing, but he could enjoy it nonetheless. It was great fun to constantly yank Sebastian's chain.

"I don't see why you're so upset," he told his butler once. "After all, didn't you tell her to go do whatever she wanted to?"

Sebastian was silent, but the area around him seemed charged with extreme negative energy.

"Or did you just mean that she can do whatever she wants _except_ go find another man?"

Sebastian was about 97% away from smacking that brat's rear end several billion times with his shoe when Ciel suddenly said,

"You know, Eleanora hates it when men are violent with children."

The transformation was almost like magic.

The negative aura immediately dissipated, and while Sebastian didn't look absolutely pleased, he still continued pouring the tea and didn't look on the verge of committing murder.

So Ciel thought up a new game.

He would be sorry when Eleanora would finally pick a man. It was great having two butlers doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted—all he had to do was say the right words. For example, one day he said,

"You know, Eleanora finds fast men really appealing."

Sebastian and Drocell had looked at each other, clearly wondering what this meant.

"I don't know _precisely_ what she intended, of course," the Earl continued calmly, "but maybe it has something to do with whoever can bring me my tea first…"

And soon both butlers had ran for tea and returned within five seconds. It really was almost like magic.

But the fun didn't just stop at tea, though. Ciel could literally make the butlers do anything— _anything_. All he had to do was involve Eleanora somehow.

For example, one day, it was beautiful outside, but unfortunately, Sebastian insisted on keeping him _inside_ to do complex math problems. Normally, Ciel would have just sulked and tried to make the experience as unpleasant as possible for his butler, but now with this rivalry, all he had to do was say,

"You know, Drocell doesn't make me study in wonderful weather. I overheard Eleanora saying, in fact, that she admired a man who took advantage of such sunshiny days."

Sebastian immediately slammed his textbook shut and ordered— _ordered_!—him to go outside and get some fresh air.

And then there was the time when Drocell didn't want to go through the trouble of making him a fifth dessert. Normally, he would have insisted and insisted until he would be worn down, but now, all he had to do was say,

"Eleanora told me just now that I'm too thin. I really should be gaining some weight…Maybe with another cake? Yes, I'm sure that _that'll_ do it…And Eleanora will be so happy that someone is finally looking after my health!"

Drocell made so many desserts that evening that even Ciel couldn't finish them all.

And then there was when Sebastian tried making him finish his vegetables…

And the time when Drocell bought the wrong coat and didn't want to go and get the right one…

And the time when Sebastian tried to make him wash the dog…

And the time when Drocell tried to make him go to bed at a decent hour…

If Ciel wasn't careful, this sudden power could go right to his head and turn him into some sort of villain. But that wasn't an issue…yet.

Another thing that Ciel liked to do was set the two butlers on each other's throats. Eleanora frequently assisted him with this game, even though she didn't really like doing it, so he could only do it once a day.

One time, Ciel asked Eleanora to drop her handkerchief on his signal and _not_ pick it up. Then he rang for the two butlers, and soon they were standing in front of him. They kept on looking around with different facial expressions: first, they looked at him with distaste and disinterest. Then, they looked at each other with deep loathing and obvious murderous intent. And finally, they would glance behind their shoulders at Eleanora with such sweet, simpering, lovelorn puppy-dog looks that it made one sick to look at.

Ciel stared at Eleanora and Eleanora looked at him. Then he sighed and tapped three times on his desk with one finger—the signal.

Eleanora accordingly dropped her handkerchief; the butlers' attention was immediately diverted to it.

All was tense for a few seconds. Ciel raised his eyebrow at his maid, who raised one back at him. And then she said, in the most monotone voice possible, with the most emotionless face in existence,

"Oops."

And both butlers lunged for the handkerchief.

The battle didn't last long; soon Sebastian was rising from the floor, practically glowing with triumph. He offered Eleanora her handkerchief like a true gentleman, which she grudgingly accepted like a true pissed-off woman.

Ciel now had both eyebrows raised in her direction; Sebastian was looking happy and eager; Eleanora was wishing that everybody in the room was dead.

Finally she gave Sebastian a strained clap on his shoulder.

"Good job," she said in the same way that Sebastian might praise a dog.

It was more than enough to make him ecstatic, though. His whole face immediately lit up, and as soon as Eleanora had left the room, he lost no time in smirking superiorly at the defeated Drocell.

And so began a series of battles which took place every night and were only resolved when it was time to begin the day's work. As soon as everyone else was asleep, Sebastian and Drocell would go outside and essentially try to kill one another before going back inside when the sun was rising.

Leaving Eleanora to clean up after them.

At first, they didn't do too much damage to one another. Aside from a couple of bruises which could easily be covered with makeup, there wasn't any sign of fighting. But after the handkerchief episode, Drocell had decided to get revenge.

When Eleanora went into the kitchen the next day, the first thing she saw was Sebastian sitting on a chair, pressing some ice against a black eye.

" _Sebastian!_ " she gasped and immediately ran to his assistance. Aside from the black eye, he was bleeding in several places and had a hole in his stomach. He was also missing a couple of his teeth.

"Oh, you poor, poor darling…Where does it hurt? Are you in _much_ pain? Tell me _everything_ , sweetheart."

Sebastian's heart swelled with rapture and adoration upon hearing such sweet words from his beloved, but he cleverly masked it with a pitiful, pained look.

"Everywhere…" he whispered, trembling a bit at her gentle touch. "It hurts _so much_ , I can hardly _stand_ it…"

 **"You—want—to—talk—not—standing?"**

Eleanora whirled around; Sebastian shot daggers at his rival, who was just entering the kitchen, hobbling a bit because his left leg had been torn off, along with several of his fingers. Also his head was facing the wrong way.

 **"Eleanora—look—what—that—monster—did—to—me!"**

"Eleanora, look what that beast did to _me_!" Sebastian said, grabbing her hand and pressing it against his chest.

 **"Eleanora!"**

Now Drocell had taken her other hand and was pressing it against _his_ chest.

"Eleanora!"

 **"** ** _Eleanora!"_**

" _Eleanora!"_

" _ENOUGH!"_ Eleanora screamed and wrenched herself away. "I am _sick_ and _tired_ of dealing with you two _numbskulls_ all the time! Can't you two _man up_ and _stop_ this _idiocy_?"

 _Idiocy_?

Sebastian and Drocell shared a look, thinking the same thing. _Idiocy?!_ They weren't idiots! They were Knights in Shining Armor, fighting boldly for Milady's fair hand! And Damsels in Distress didn't think that their saviors were idiots—they thought that they were heroes! There was something definitely wrong with this picture…Who was in the wrong, here? Her or us?

Her. It definitely had to be her. She just must not have been in the mood to be saved by her Knight (of course, Sebastian and Drocell had a different opinion on who her knight was). She'll come around eventually, once she realizes how amazing her Knight is.

They were right about Eleanora not being in the mood to be saved. In fact, she hadn't been in the mood ever since she realized that Sebastian was jealous, which she had figured out roughly five seconds after she had been in the same room with him when they had met Drocell.

The problem with being pursued by two men is that eventually one would have to choose, and unless one was planning on becoming a polygamist (unseemly and unladylike), only one man could be chosen. And Eleanora didn't really _want_ to pick out one. They both had their benefits and their disadvantages.

Like Drocell. Drocell was everything she liked in a man: kind, considerate, respectful, handsome, adoring…He was also dumb as bricks, and Eleanora simply _detested_ stupidity of _any_ kind. He could barely make a decision on his own; he literally had to be ordered around to do anything, which was taxing. It also made her impatient and got old after a _very_ short time. And he just wasn't as strong as Sebastian, both physically and mentally. He wouldn't really be able to defend her if she was truly in a bad situation. But he loved her, and she loved him. But being with him meant cheating on her husband, which is one of the most detestable things any person could ever do.

Sebastian was intelligent and strong and elegant and gentlemanly and professional…He was also a complete asshole. He hadn't even cared about her until the threat of another man came along. He looked down on humans—which included her—and he also had that damned macho mentality which was always so irritating and made him do stupid things. But she was already married to him, which was convenient…But he was also a demon…But he was also filthy rich…But he was also heartless and sadistic…

It was so hard to choose. Love over money? Elegance over kindness? How did those women in those trashy romance novels ever choose one person? Eleanora knew that she would eventually have to pick one, but for now, she wanted to have nothing to do with either of them. Right now, all she wanted to do was ignore the problem and pray daily that it would somehow resolve itself.

And for a few days, it looked as if it did. Ciel had received a letter from the sanatorium, which said that the Earl of Mandalay wanted to see his butler again. Drocell would be sent out to the country, leaving Sebastian with Eleanora. For some time, it looked as if everything had been fixed by Fate.

Sebastian was naturally walking on the clouds throughout these days. His hated enemy was being sent away and he would be the winner by default. Eleanora would eventually forget the doll-freak, but before that happened, he could be the shoulder to cry on, which would only improve his standing with his wife. Perfect in every way! He couldn't have planned it better himself.

But a few hours before Drocell was to leave, he asked Eleanora to meet him in the garden— _alone_. Naturally Sebastian couldn't let such a suspicious meeting go unnoticed, so he followed them.

They wandered around the garden for a bit, and then they sat down on a stone bench, where they were silent for a time. And then Drocell seized Eleanora's hands and starting talking.

It would be too long and too tedious to relate _everything_ that was said during those five minutes (probably more than ten minutes, actually, due to Drocell's mechanical way of speaking), but the gist of his speech was this: he simply adored Eleanora; he couldn't live without her, and would she _please_ come with him to the country so they could spend the rest of their natural lives in perfect bliss, serving the Earl of Mandalay, who, Drocell assured her, was _much_ nicer than the Earl of Phantomhive.

Sebastian's heart had grown cold upon hearing such a beautiful, touching, well-thought-out oration. But…Eleanora wouldn't buy it, right? She would stay at Phantomhive, right? She would be loyal to her husband— _right_?

Eleanora was silent for a time after Drocell had proclaimed his undying love. Then she squeezed his hands, laughed a bit, looked deep into his eyes and said, smiling,

"Drocell, I love you. I love you very, very much. I had never thought that I could love someone so much...I don't think that I could ever love anyone half so much as I love you."

Sebastian stopped listening after this. He just turned on his heel and strode away. The carriage had to be ready for Drocell's departure, after all. And he was on a schedule.

Sebastian had felt pain when Eleanora had said that she hadn't slept with him out of love. But that was nothing compared to the pain that he felt now.


	31. Chapter 31

But Eleanora hadn't finished her speech. If Sebastian had just waited for a few more minutes…But there is no sense in mourning the past and bemoaning the "almosts" and "might-have-beens."

"Drocell," she said, "I love you. I love you very, very much. I had never thought that I could love someone so much...I don't think that I could ever love anyone half so much as I love you."

"But," she said just as he was about to embrace her, "I can't run away with you."

He stared at her with all the intelligence of an inebriated oyster.

 **"—What—?"** he finally said.

"I can't leave with you. I'm sorry."

 **"Oh. OH! Oh—I—understand. You—don't—want—to—sever—your—ties—with—Phantomhive—just—yet. I—can—relate—to—that…"**

"No, Drocell; you don't understand," she said, taking his hands and staring at him, straight into those beautiful, perfect amethyst eyes, "I can't leave _him_."

Again the vacant stare.

Eleanora forced a laugh and continued:

"I love you, Drocell; I didn't lie when I said that I did. And yet…whenever I think about him…I just can't leave him. I just can't…give up on him."

 **"I—don't—understand."**

"It's hard to explain…And I mean that it's _REALLY_ hard to explain, but…I love you; I know that I do…but I feel as if I love him more. In any case," another forced laugh, "I love him enough not to leave him."

 **"Oh,"** Drocell said and stared at the ground, silent.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry…"

 **"Don't—be,"** Drocell said. **"There's—nothing—to—be—sorry—about."**

 _"If only all men could be as nice as he is,"_ she thought as they left the garden, holding hands. _"Then maybe this world wouldn't be the awful place it is…"_

Of course he was hurting. She could tell; she _knew_ ; she was hurting too, because she knew that she had hurt him. But what else could she do? She couldn't run away with _both_ of them…

Sebastian was waiting for them with the carriage—just a simple two-seater. He would be the one escorting Drocell to the sanatorium and making sure that he was safely reunited with Earl Mandalay. He had a completely blank expression. This was beyond his furious face—it looked as if he was dead inside.

Drocell shook hands with all of the servants and kissed Ciel's hand in gratitude. He said goodbye to Eleanora last. They shook hands, and then she hugged him.

"You be good," she whispered. "Take care of yourself. I love you."

 **"I—love—you—too,"** Drocell said back. Sebastian looked away.

She smiled and they pulled away. She held his head in her hands for some time, studying him carefully, as if committing his face to permanent memory.

"Write often," she said, "and come visit us."

"We'd certainly appreciate another competent butler around here every now and then," Ciel said, while thinking, _'Yay! More games!'_

Sebastian didn't say anything throughout the whole parting; he didn't look at anyone as he got into the carriage next to Drocell. He just snapped the reins and the horse took off.

Drocell turned around and waved as hard as he could. Everybody waved back. Sebastian didn't look back once.

They waved at each other until the carriage had vanished into the distance. Then they went back into the manor.

Eleanora excused herself and went up to her room, where she lay on the bed and burst into tears.


	32. Chapter 32

The trip to the sanatorium was dead silent. Neither man tried to initiate conversation, because neither wanted to.

 _"Why him?"_ Sebastian thought as they drove along. _"Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been me? What's wrong with me? Why did it have to be him?"_

The real facts are presently unknown, but it can be safely assumed that Drocell was thinking much along the same lines.

The horse moved quickly and Sebastian didn't stop for any reason, and soon they were on the sanatorium grounds.

Drocell entered the main building to talk to one of the nurses, who said that Earl Mandalay was expecting him, but if he could please wait for five minutes while everything was prepared.

The doll went back outside, where the demon was absentmindedly rubbing down the horse after the trip.

 **"She—said—it—would—be—five—minutes—or—so."**

"I don't care," Sebastian said in a lifeless voice.

 **"Is—there—anything—you—do—care—about?"**

"I'm different from you humans—or, rather, you _former_ humans," he looked at him from the corner of his eyes with distaste. "I don't care about much, but when I _do_ care, I care with a passion and devotion and intensity that you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams."

 **"I—care—too. I—care—with—passion—and—devotion—and—intensity."**

Sebastian scoffed and turned his attention back to the horse. Eleanora had stayed behind at Phantomhive—undoubtedly she was turning in her two weeks' notice even as they spoke. And then she would join Drocell and serve the Earl of Mandalay, and then…where would he be? Would he be all alone again? He didn't want to go back to the bachelor life; the nights were always so cold and lonely. When one has been intimate with another person—both physically and mentally—it is incredibly difficult, almost impossible, to return to solitude again.

And his parents…What would he tell his parents? How could he possibly confess to his mother that he lost his wife to a _doll_? And his father…What would his father say? What would his father _do_?

Well, his father most certainly would _not_ try attacking him from behind with a fallen tree trunk, which was, coincidentally, what Drocell had just tried to do.

They had fought before—they had fought each other several times for several nights straight. But this fight was different. Before, they hadn't been able to really battle because they didn't want to ruin the mansion or wake somebody up, but now there were no inhibitions. There was nothing stopping them from ripping each other's throats out.

Which was what they both wanted to do at this moment, more than anything else in the world.

Drocell was a skilled fighter, and he had a body that was stronger and lighter than a human's. But, really, in the end, he was just a human soul trapped in a porcelain shell. When emotions ran rampant and there were no holds barred, the demon was easily able to overpower him. The only thing that stopped Sebastian from rendering him permanently immobile was that Drocell fell to his knees before him and started crying.

 **"Why?"** he sobbed. **"Why did she have to choose** ** _you_** **, of all people?"**

Sebastian paused in his "kill" position to consider this strange turn of affairs. For one thing, a _doll_ was _crying_ ; he was so upset that his voice even lost some of that mechanicalness. And for another thing, he was talking about something completely impossible. Eleanora chose _him_?

"…You're lying," he finally said. "She chose you. I heard her—she loves you." And he again prepared to slam the tree trunk through his useless skull.

But Drocell shook his head.

 **"She—chose—you,"** he said, unable to control his grief. **"She—rejected—me. She—said—she—loves—you—more…Loves—you—enough—to—stay—with—you…"**

The tree slipped out of Sebastian's hands and landed on his head, where it cracked neatly into two pieces. He hadn't even noticed it.

"She…chose… _me_?" He couldn't believe it. "She could've had you…and she chose _me_?"

 **"Yes,"** Drocell nodded. **"And—I—just—can't—understand—why…"**

At this thought, he glared up with a sudden resurgence of fury and staggered to his feet, again itching for another fight…But at that moment, a nurse stepped out of the building and approached them.

"Mr. Drocell Keinz?"

 **"Er—Yes?"**

"The Earl is ready for you now."

His rage and disappointment dissipated when faced with the reality of meeting his beloved master again. He turned and practically ran to the building, completely forgetting his rival.

But that was okay, as Sebastian had completely forgotten his rival as well.

 _"She didn't choose him,"_ he thought as he got into the carriage. _"She chose me. She didn't choose him. She chose me. She didn't choose him. She chose me! She didn't choose him! She CHOSE_ _ **ME!**_ _"_

Those two sentences—those two simply perfect, glorious sentences!—ran nonstop through his mind as he raced back to Phantomhive. The horse didn't mind—it enjoyed the return trip as much as the butler did.

And soon he was back at Phantomhive—wonderful, outstanding Phantomhive!—and quickly scanning the house for Eleanora. He sensed her presence in one of the rooms and he immediately ran up the stairs, down the hall, throwing the door open—

 _"ELEANORA!"_

Ciel looked up from his papers.

"Hm? Oh, it's you. That was fast; I hadn't expected you for another hour or so."

Sebastian blinked at him, confused. Where was Eleanora? He must've just missed her.

"Anyway, it's good that you're here early." Ciel tossed a paper over to Sebastian. "We have a new assignment from the Queen."

Sebastian didn't even understand that statement.

"…What?"

"I said that we have a new assignment from the Queen. The letter arrived not too long ago; the servants have already packed up my luggage. You can be packed in five minutes, right?"

"…What?"

"I said, you can be packed in five minutes right?"

Sebastian just blinked uncomprehendingly.

"…We have a new _assignment_ from the _Queen_ ," Ciel said in a very careful, slow voice. "We have to go and _investigate_ it now."

"…But… _why_?"

"' _Why_?!'" Ciel was surprised. Sebastian had never questioned an investigation before—except for the dog village stint. "Because…Because the Queen asked us to…?"

"This _Queen_!" Sebastian said furiously. "What does she even _do_ all day?!"

" _SEBASTIAN!"_ Ciel said, now thoroughly shocked. "Go and get ready immediately! That is an _order_!" Ordering him around was actually a genius move on his part, as it prevented Ciel from answering the question, to which he didn't exactly know the answer to.

The butler slunk out of the room, and soon he was leaving Phantomhive again. Eleanora had said goodbye to them all, but he didn't have a chance to ask her if it was _really_ well and truly _true_ —if she had _really_ chosen _him_ over the freak—if she _really_ loved _him_ , and him only.

He sulked all the way, so it was not a pleasant trip to the boarding school.


	33. Chapter 33

Eleanora had spent the next week or so mourning her loss—quietly, of course; maids shouldn't show their grief openly—the best maids didn't even _have_ grief! But of course that was unrealistic. To live in a world without grief is to not live in a world at all, and unfortunately, Eleanora did indeed live.

She was almost grateful when Madam Red received a sudden letter from Ciel, saying that he was fine; school was fine; he was having a bit of issues with some boy; but other than that, everything was peaches and roses and there was no need to panic and do anything rash.

And after reading such a comforting letter, Madam Red decided to panic and do something rash.

"My poor darling nephew!" she said. "Completely at the mercy of some horrible, disgusting bully! What should I do? _What_ should I _do_?!"

"They say that the best cure for a bully is an even _bigger_ bully," Grell said.

"Nonsense; who ever said _that_?"

"Well…Nobody; I just made it up; but it's true either way! So in order to help him, all you have to do is send him someone even meaner than a child bully."

"But…But where would we even _find_ such a person?"

And at that moment, Eleanora entered the room.

She didn't actually mind being sent off to some random boarding school. It would help distract her from Drocell. She had received letters from him, saying how happy he was to be reunited with the Earl of Mandalay, but that he still missed her and she was on his mind constantly. That did very little to assuage her pain—quite on the contrary, it seemed to exacerbate it.

She didn't know why the Earl of Phantomhive had suddenly decided to go to school, but she wouldn't mind going back. She actually had lots of fond memories from her school days—putting glue in teachers' shoes, cutting hair when the students slept, stealing the holy Communion wine from the chapel and drinking it on the sly…Good times, good times all around. The staff had not been sorry to see her leave.

It was an all-boys' school, which she thought kind of sucked. It seemed that every other school in England was an all-boys' school. There weren't _nearly_ enough girls' schools around, and the ones that the country had weren't very good. They taught valuable skills like Embroidery and Summoning Non-Rabid Woodland Creatures Through Song.

The front-desk staff seemed a bit hesitant to allow a woman to enter their sacred walls, but she was eventually able to convince them. And soon she was wandering around the grounds, looking at the buildings and wondering where the young Master was.

A bell tolled somewhere in the school and the pupils started filing out of their classes.

"Eleanora?"

She turned around; the young Master was approaching her, dressed in a sharp student's outfit with several books tucked under his arm.

"Oh! Hello! How are you?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked, immediately cutting out the chit-chat, the way that he always did.

"Your aunt sent me. She said that she was worried about you with some…boy?"

"Oh," Ciel sighed, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Why did she worry? I _told_ her over and over in her letter that everything was under control…"

"Well, she still sent me, and here I am! Or do you want me to leave?"

"No, since you're here, you might as well be of use. Do you want to see the boy?"

"The bully?"

"Oh, 'bully' is such a _strong_ word…More like…'annoyance.'"

"Ah, I gotcha."

Ciel led Eleanora around the building and then pointed at a group of students who were flocking around one boy, a boy who looked simply angelic.

"That's the one—Maurice Cole."

"Ah, I see," Eleanora said, not really seeing at all. "…So, which one is he? Is he the one offering the girl sweets or massaging her shoulders?"

"Girl? What girl?"

"Oh, _please_! It _may_ be an all-boys' school, but that is _definitely_ a member of the gentler sex. She must have sneaked in somehow…Not too surprising; any girl can pass for a young boy and vice-versa…Look at _you,_ for example!"

"I…You… _What_?...No, the girl _is_ Maurice!"

Eleanora blinked at him.

"You're shitting me."

"I swear to God."

"Well, we'll just have to examine this closer, shall we?"

"No, _don't_ —!"

But Eleanora had already shoved her way through the throng and was standing in front of the angelic boy, smiling sweetly.

"Yes?" Maurice Cole asked, after getting over his initial shock upon seeing a young woman in the school. "Can I help you?"

"You're Maurice Cole?"

"I am."

"Settle a bet, honey bumpkin," she said and leaned in conspiratorially. "You _were_ , at some point, a Mauricia, right? I can tell by your voice; you haven't had a voice change, recently, have you?"

"I…I _beg_ your _pardon_!"

"Now don't be shy! I've met several, very nice people like you; it's nothing to be ashamed about…"

At this point, Maurice noticed Ciel in the distance, trying very hard not to laugh.

" _You!_ " he hissed. "I should have known _you'd_ be involved in this…this... _ploy_!"

"Really?" Eleanora said. "Over ten billion words in this language and all you can think of is _'ploy?'_ At least use 'shenanigans' or something else fun to say!"

All Maurice could do was say a frustrated "OH!" and stomp off, followed obediently by his minions. Eleanora watched him leave, shrugged, and then went back to Ciel.

"That 'boy' is _definitely_ suspicious," she told him. " _No man_ can look _that_ feminine without either being a woman, or using something."

"'Using something?' Like what?"

"I was originally thinking estrogen supplements, but makeup would work just as well."

"Don't let _anyone_ hear you say that," Ciel said, his face turning pink from repressing laughter. "But that's an interesting thought…I'll have to look into it. He's the most attractive boy in school, you know."

"An all-boys' school, and _that_ is what everybody is concerned about? This whole thing only increases in suspicion…By the way," she said as they went back to walking around the grounds, "didn't you bring your butler with you? Where is he?"

"Why? Did you miss him?"

"No, I just want to know where he is at all times so that he doesn't go off and do something stupid agai… _Damn_."

"What? What is it?"

Ciel followed her eyes; she had stopped short and was now staring in fascination at a man dressed in black robes, talking to some of the students.

"…Who is he…?" she murmured. "I mean…and I don't say this a lot, but… _damn_!"

"That's my professor, actually," Ciel said. "Why? Do you like him?"

"My Lord, if I wasn't a married woman…"

"I'll introduce you, if you'd like," Ciel said, smirking.

" _What_? _No!_ Haven't I already told you that I'm _married_? But it's still such a shame…" Eleanora gazed in longing at the man. "Such an ass really shouldn't go to waste…"

"I dare you to say something to him as we pass by."

"You _'dare_ ' me? What are you—six?"

Ciel considered this.

"…I'll give you five shillings."

This put the whole thing in a completely new perspective. Eleanora licked her lips.

"Make it ten."

Ciel checked his pockets.

"I only have eight."

"That'll do."

And they continued walking. As they passed by the man, Eleanora turned to him and said in a low voice—low enough so that the other students couldn't hear her, but loud enough for him to definitely understand what she was saying—

"Do you give private lessons, professor?"

The man stopped in his talking and turned to look at her.

Eleanora's mouth dropped.

It was the butler.

But _WHAT_ a transformation! Those eyes, normally so cold, now turned passionate through the use of glasses! That hair, normally so wild and free, turned sexy just by being relatively tamed! That torso, normally so bulky in a tailcoat, now finely chiseled in a teacher's uniform!

Eleanora couldn't stop staring at him over her shoulder as she walked. She eventually composed herself enough to give him a little approving smirk. He rolled his eyes at this and turned back to the students, but even he couldn't hide his pleased smile.

They turned the corner and Eleanora collapsed against the building. She couldn't even speak for a while; all she could do was make some happy gasping sounds.

"You seem impressed," Ciel commented. "I've never seen you look so happy before."

"My _Lord_ ," Eleanora finally managed, "if he had asked me to marry him wearing _that_ , I would've been at the church _hours_ before he even _arrived_!"

Ciel smiled at this and shook his head. Then another bell tolled and he had to go to class, with Eleanora in tow.


	34. Chapter 34

Eleanora sat in the back of the classroom during the lesson. She didn't mind it so much; she was tired after her long trip, and besides, the view of the teacher-butler was better from behind.

The other students didn't realize that anything was wrong, only that there was a strange woman sitting in the back. They didn't notice their teacher acting differently in any way whatsoever. Then again, they hadn't been living with him for almost three years.

Ciel could tell that Sebastian was nervous. Nervous and pleased. Which made him—what? Nervously pleased? Pleasantly nervous? Probably both.

The other students thought that nothing was wrong, but Ciel could tell that he had changed. He spoke a bit louder than usual; he swallowed more; he avoided all eye contact with the students and he never, ever looked at the back of the room, where his wife was sitting, staring intensely at him.

Ciel had been a bit nervous when he leaned that Madam Red had sent his maid after him, but now he was thinking that maybe it wasn't the worst idea. The boys in this school were idiots—it would be easy for Eleanora to smooth-talk her way into exploring the place. And Ciel's movements were limited—schools always had so many idiotic, confining rules. And he wasn't able to explore the other houses, even on a good day…Yes, she would be useful. He would tell her exactly what to do, right after this stupid class let out.

After several agonizing hours, a bell tolled, indicating the end of the class. Ciel rose up, stretching, and glanced at Eleanora. She looked at him and he made a sharp gesture with his head, indicating to her to follow him. She did so, watching the butler as she passed. Sebastian was absorbed in writing the next lesson on the blackboard— _too_ absorbed. It was painfully obvious to Ciel that he was trying very hard to not seem interested in Eleanora at all.

"What happens now?" she asked when all of the rest of the students had left the classroom. "Where do we go next?"

"It's lunchtime; I'll take you to the dining hall. And I have something I need to talk to you about…"

"Alright. How's the food here? Is it any good?"

"It's okay. Never try the poached eggs, but other than that, it's all digestible."

"That's great; I'm _starving_ …"

"But what about Seb—that is, Mr. Michaelis?" Ciel looked over at his butler, who was still pretending to be absolutely fascinated by his lesson plans.

"What about him? It's lunchtime. I'm saving him for dessert."

The chalk broke in Sebastian's hands; he whirled around to glare at Eleanora, but she just gave him an innocent smile and coyly waved her fingers at him. He turned away and knelt down to pick up the fallen chalk. Ciel was slightly disconcerted to see that he was blushing. Well, he was happy to be complimented. Hopefully it wouldn't become a problem in the future.

"Anyway," he said to Eleanora at the dining hall, temporarily banishing thoughts of Sebastian and his weirdness, "do you know why I was called here?"

"…I am hoping it was to make you into a better man?"

" _No_. Someone special to the Queen was sent here, and he hasn't been replying to any letters. It's as if he's completely disappeared."

"So you're supposed to find him."

"That's right, only he's in another house. There are four houses, and they have rather incredible rivalries. I can't explore them fully, but you might be able to."

"So you want me to find information on this person? See where he vanished off to?"

"Yes, exactly! The one who should _really_ know what happened to him is the Principal…"

"Then go straight to the Principal; why are you asking _me_?"

"Access to the Principal is limited. The only ones who can get close to him are the Prefects."

"Then get close to the Prefects."

"I'm _trying_ , but there's a problem…"

"There always seems to be one."

"The problem is Maurice Cole. As long as he's in favor with the Prefects, I'm not able to get close to them."

Eleanora gave him a big, friendly smile.

"…Who the ! is Maurice Cole?"

"...Mauricia."

"Oh, _that_ one! Yes, I remember her…So what? You want me to explore the other houses for clues about the disappearances, and you also want me to dig up some dirt on Mauricia?"

"That's right. Can you do all that?"

"My Lord," Eleanora said, licking her lips, "!ing up the school life is what I do best."


	35. Chapter 35

_Author's Note:_

 _I probably should have mentioned this much earlier, but these chapters do contain spoilers, especially for Chapter 71 of the manga. I sincerely apologize if I have accidentally spoiled the manga or anime for anyone who has read, or is reading, this story and/or its predecessor._

It was remarkably easy for Eleanora to slip in and explore all of the other houses. A woman under forty wandering around the school was a rarity at best, and every other boy practically fell head-over-heels in trying to please her. It didn't matter that she rivaled Medusa—everyone still wanted to show her around and tell her everything and fill her up with lots of garbage about the school's history and tradition. She could get used to so much masculine attention.

There was one boy who she rather liked—at least, she was _pretty sure_ that he was a boy—was from the Red house. He was an _excellent_ tour guide, not only because he knew practically everything about the school, but also because he, like the young Master, had gotten messily involved with Maurice Cole. He even knew where his personal bathroom was, and at that moment, Eleanora "conveniently" needed to use the restroom.

She ducked inside and immediately started rifling through the drawers. Nothing…Nothing…Nothing…Wait. There was some sort of a strange contraption, hidden underneath a false bottom on the lowest drawer—a curling iron.

She couldn't help but grin. Jackpot.

Every drawer had a false bottom, actually. They were made so cleverly that unless one knew that they existed, one couldn't find them. She only found the one on the bottom drawer because it hadn't been replaced carefully enough.

She quickly took a mental note of everything clandestine and carefully replaced the drawers. Then she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, to make it seem as if she really had just been using the necessary. And then she left the bathroom to continue interviewing her adorable little tour guide.

Sometimes it really sucked to be an adult. If she had only been a few years younger, she would have _definitely_ pursued something with the little munchkin. But then she passed the butler in the hall, still decked out in full professor regalia, and decided that being an adult did have the occasional perk.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was wondering who that little kid was—the one who was hanging around his wife, practically drooling on her like a lovesick puppy. He hoped that Eleanora hadn't stumbled across a Drocell Junior. Trying to teach a bunch of brats with half-rotted brains the alphabet was hard enough—he _really_ didn't need any more aggravation.

Ciel was also feeling irritated. On the one hand, having Eleanora do all the work for him was convenient. On the other hand, Eleanora had a terrible habit of being wildly unpredictable at the worst of times. He couldn't concentrate on the lesson—he kept on remembering all of the stories that Eleanora had told him of when she had been at school. At the time, he had thought that they were incredibly amusing. Now they just filled him with dread. Suppose she got the urge to block up the toilets? Or make posters featuring fake rules? Or counterfeit dismissal letters and mail them to the staff?

But he needn't have worried. Eleanora was well aware that she was no longer eleven, and continued exploring the school without any incident. That evening, she stopped by the staff rooms and entered the room marked MICHAELIS. Ciel had said that he would be there, talking to the butler.

She had arrived too early; he was with another student. He glanced up at her when she entered but continued teaching the student about math. Or Latin. Eleanora could never really tell the difference between the two; they were both long and hard and really, really boring.

The student left quickly after the appearance of a strange woman, and soon they were sitting there in the sitting room, all alone. He rose up and began making some tea, still in silence.

"…Well?" Sebastian finally said.

"Well, what?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Neither was I; I thought that you would rather die than play teacher."

"I confess that there are other parts I would rather play."

"Like doctor?"

He paused in his tea-making and looked over at her.

"I do beg your pardon?"

Eleanora smiled and sat down on one of the chairs, crossing her legs as she did—the most unladylike thing a woman could ever do.

"I said, would you rather play doctor?"

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and went back to the tea.

"That depends," he said, "on who would play my nurse."

He finished making refreshments and turned around; Eleanora was standing RIGHT BEHIND HIM.

His demonic instincts immediately went into hyper drive, but he masked it well.

"Yes, Eleanora?"

"I hate foreplay," she mused, leaning against him, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. "It's so boring and distracts from what's really going on. Will there be any other students coming this evening, professor?"

"Just one; I'll be giving her private lessons later in the evening."

He sauntered away from her and locked the door to his chambers, which made him conveniently stand right in front of the threshold to his bedroom.

Eleanora's eyes lit up.

"…The young Master won't be happy with us…"

"He'll be fine; he's interviewing the other students in his class for information."

"So he won't be back here for a few hours?"

"He might not come here at all; it's almost lights-out…"

"How convenient…It would almost be a crime not to make use of all this free time…"

"The lesson would really only last an hour or two—three at most; maybe four if the pupil refuses to learn a thing or two…"

Eleanora stared at him and he stared back.

"You can leave on the robe, the spectacles, and that cross-thing on your neck," she said.

"Deal," he said.

Whether she lunged at him or he lunged at her is presently unknown; it doesn't matter anyway, as they both ended up on the same bed in the end.


	36. Chapter 36

Ciel didn't go to sleep; he was too occupied with planning. He waited until everyone else in the dormitory had fallen asleep before getting up and sneaking off to Sebastian's quarters. He knew that the butler wouldn't be asleep—he was always much too busy with more important things than sleeping.

He quietly entered the chambers and discovered that all of the lights had been turned out—except for the one in the bedroom. Ciel wondered what was so fascinating in there—he had peeked inside, and all that had been in there were the bed and a wardrobe. All of the notes about the school were in the outside room.

"Sebastian? Hello? What are you doing?" He knocked on the bedroom door—no answer. He tried the door and it was locked, which _clearly_ meant that whoever was inside wanted to be interrupted.

" _OY_! _SEBASTIAN!_ "

There was a thumping noise, as if a person fell down.

 _"OW!_ "

And then a woman saying,

"Are you okay?"

"Fine; fine; fine; don't get up…Did you hear something?"

"...No…It's kind of hard to hear anything over the moaning."

"I sincerely hope that you're referring to yourself. I _never_ moan."

"Well, then, why don't you come up here again and double-check?"

Then Ciel heard some kind of demonic purring noise.

"SE- _BAAAS_ -TIAN!"

There were several more crashing sounds and then the door was suddenly flung open, revealing a very slipshod Sebastian.

"Young _Master_!" he said in a too-bright voice. "I thought that you were asleep…"

"I came to talk to you about Maurice. Did Eleanora discover anything?"

"Yes!" the woman, who was still in the room, said.

"…Why is _Eleanora_ in your room? And at _this_ hour!" Ciel gave his butler a look; Sebastian looked away and coughed. " _What_ have you two been _doing_?"

"We've…been…" Sebastian trailed off, mostly because he could hear his wife running around his bedroom, searching for her clothes. "We were…uh…How to put this delicately…"

"We were just studying in-depth human-demon anatomical and biological intercourses," Eleanora said, leaving the room. She had given up on searching for all of her things and had just put on the professor robe. It was several sizes too big for her, so it did a fairly good job in covering her up. She smiled at the young Master, who was staring at them suspiciously.

"…In-depth human/demon anatomical and biological intercourses?"

"Yes," Sebastian said, grateful that it technically wasn't a lie. " _Very_ in-depth."

Ciel had spent the past several hours learning about anatomy and biology and he wasn't interested in learning about any more. So he dropped the subject and instead asked Eleanora what she had learned about the school.

She hadn't found any trace of the vanished boy, but she _did_ , however, find some _very_ interesting things about Maurice Cole. Ciel almost couldn't believe what she told him— _almost_. If it was true…

The rest of the evening was spent making plans. Tomorrow, Maurice Cole's Reign of Beautiful Terror would end. And then…

Well, Ciel didn't really want to think about what would happen _then_ at the moment. It was late and he was tired—one plan was enough for the night.

He said goodnight to his servants and left. As he was walking down the hallway, he suddenly remembered something that he had wanted to tell his butler for hours.

"Oh, by the way, Sebas…"

Ciel opened the door, right in time to see his butler and maid kissing each other. He had been gone for less than a minute, and already they were—the best term for it would be "making out."

" _WHAT_ are you two _DOING_?!"

Eleanora shrieked and pushed the butler away from her.

"My _LORD_!" Sebastian said. "What are you—Why are you—"

"Please pardon us, my Lord," Eleanora said, because, like most women, she was able to recover quickly and immediately commence damage control after she realized that she had messed up. "Is there anything else?"

"Er…Yes," and he told Sebastian what he had come to say. He was just about to scamper off when he paused at the door and looked at them. Eleanora was playing with her hair, trying to gracefully pass off her embarrassment, while Sebastian just looked humiliated and a touch murderous. "You two…This…isn't going to become a _regular_ thing, right? I mean…this isn't going to become a real _problem_ , right?"

"My Lord!" Eleanora said. "Perish the thought."

"Well, see that it doesn't," Ciel said. "Remember always that you are my servants."

"Yes my Lord," both servants chirruped and Ciel quickly left the room, blushing a bit at seeing such an intimate act.

Sebastian counted down a minute, just to make sure that the young Master wouldn't be returning, before turning to Eleanora.

"Well?" he said, cuddling closer to her. "Shall we continue where we left off?"

" _No_. I am _not_ getting into trouble again."

"Oh, we won't get into _trouble_ …And we were having such _fun_ …"

"But I'm _tiiired_ …" Eleanora sighed. "Let's just call it quits and a night."

There are few things more persistent than a man who wants to study intercourses. There are few things more stubborn than a woman who doesn't want to give them. And, as is usually the case with married couples, the woman won.

But Sebastian didn't go to bed _too_ disappointed. Eleanora made it up to him by giving him a big kiss on the lips. And normally he wouldn't have thought that a mere kiss was anything special, but this time…This time, she initiated it herself, with no pleading or asking on his part. This time, it almost seemed _genuine_ …As if she wanted to kiss him herself.


	37. Chapter 37

The Maurice plan went off almost without a hitch. Sure, there had been a moment or two where Ciel had thought that he was going to die, but it had all been worth it in the end. Maurice had been properly humiliated—reputation in ruins; all alone and friendless…Everything was going perfectly.

Except for Sebastian and Eleanora, that is.

Fine, he admitted it: he _liked_ Eleanora. She was a good maid. And, like all good employers, he wanted his servants to be happy and have their happy endings. If she had chosen Drocell, he would have supported her 100%. He might have even paid for the wedding. But it was _different_ with Sebastian. It was kind of hard to support a demon who was going to eat one's soul. Ciel didn't want to wish Sebastian a happy, fairy-tale ending—truth be told, he actually wanted him to _suffer_. He usually accomplished this in petty ways, like banning cats from the mansion. But Eleanora was bigger than a cat— _better_ , probably. If he could somehow manage to distance her from Sebastian, even for just a while longer; make that butler be in agonies for just a bit more…

He didn't care if wanting his butler miserable made him a horrible person. His butler was going to _kill_ him, after all—eventually. Was it really so bad to want one's murderer to be unhappy for several years? After all, after Ciel was gone, he would have an eternity of happiness with his wife. Besides, if he made it a bit more difficult to achieve his "happily-ever-after," he would enjoy it more when he had finally achieved it. Ciel was doing him a _favor_.

But aside from desiring his butler's unhappiness, Eleanora and Sebastian were a problem because now that she was finding him attractive, he had decided that she was the most important thing in the school, which she most certainly was _not_. They had a _mission_! The Queen's priorities were _their_ priorities, and Sebastian was blatantly _ignoring_ that!

The worst part about having an unholy butler pretend to be a teacher is that being the perfect teacher really brings out the best in a demon. He was kind to the students. He was knowledgeable and intelligent. He was respectful and pleasant to the other staff. And he, apparently, looked "damned sexy" in his professor outfit (Eleanora's quote, not his').

Rather than seeing the big jerk demon she was married to, Eleanora was actually starting to see his good sides. And she _liked_ them. And Sebastian liked being liked. And what did all that add up to?

It meant that every time they had a moment alone together, they would start kissing. And if they had several _hours_ alone together, they would go into his bedroom and lock the door. Ciel didn't know what could possibly occupy them in one room for so long, but it involved a lot of moaning and the occasional giggle.

But he was digressing. The point was that they were being obnoxiously lovey-dovey and it was interfering with their mission.

He couldn't help but blame himself. He really should have tried to push Eleanora into Drocell's arms more. Maybe he could've dropped some really-obvious hints, like, "I'll pay you if you divorce Sebastian." Or was that too subtle?

Phase 1 of the Big Plan had been successfully completed. The second Phase involved some kind of cricket game. Ciel had never had much of an interest in cricket, but he did like games! That is, he simply adored _winning_ games. The problem was, he wasn't so sure that he could win this game if his two servants were too busy cooing over each other instead of fussing over _him_ , which was naturally the right honest way.

Speaking of rightful honesty, Ciel was actually a bit nervous about the game. He would have never admitted it to anyone, of course—except for Eleanora.

They were wandering around the school grounds and he was quietly confessing to her all of his inhibitions. She, being the excellent maid that she was, was listening quietly and sincerely to him and occasionally offering him a bit of noncommittal advice. Ciel was actually starting to feel a bit better about things…and then they strolled past the butler, who smiled and winked at her. She smiled and looked away. That was bad enough, but she was also _blushing_. Eleanora never _blushed_! She swore and she threatened and she hated and she did not _blush_.

Seeing such an uncharacteristic action made Ciel rather upset. They were talking about _his_ problems. And then that damned butler just went and _ruined_ it! Just like _that_! Unforgivable. And Eleanora was actually _allowing_ him to ruin it! She was actually _allowing_ herself to fall in love! No, no, no; this wouldn't do at all. As her employer, he had a duty to make sure that she didn't compromise her values and inadvertently ruin her life.

"For goodness sakes, Eleanora!" he blurted out. "What about _Drocell_? Don't you ever think about _him_? I thought that you _loved_ him! Remember that? Don't you love Drocell and hate Sebastian?"

Eleanora was about to answer him when what he was really saying fully hit her. Her face turned stricken and tragic. Ciel almost felt sorry for her— _almost_.

But he was her employer, and it was his duty to help her reach her happily ever after—her _true_ happily ever after, even if it meant ruining a demon's happy ending.


	38. Chapter 38

Sebastian had no idea what was wrong, or what had happened. Everything had been just perfect in the morning—he had woken up next to Eleanora, who had smiled and had allowed him to kiss her neck, and now, in the evening, she was acting as if he didn't exist.

Naturally he knew immediately who had turned her against him. He desperately wanted to confront the young Master and demand to know what he had said to her, but that was unprofessional. Besides, if he wanted to know what was wrong, he would have to go straight to the source. That's what his mother always said…Then again, Jean had told him that if he had to ask a woman what was wrong, he was already in big trouble.

He decided to go with his mother on this one. After all, she was a woman, so she probably knew best on how to deal with women. And his father's best advice usually revolved around food and sex, not really "talking out feelings."

It was lights-out and all of the students were sent to bed, which meant that the young Master wouldn't be able to sneak away for about another half-hour. The perfect time to have a nice, deep, earnest conversation with his wife about her problems.

He was dreading it already.

She was sitting on the couch, staring off into space. She didn't move when he sat down next to her and was only startled out of her thoughts when he wrapped his arms around her.

"Sweetness," he whispered and kissed her hand. "Is something bothering you?"

"No," she said, blatantly lying.

Rose at this point would have said to leave it alone for a while and wait for her to talk. Jean would have said to keep going and wring it out of her. Sebastian, in his defense, tried to do what his mother would have done, lasted for half a millisecond, and chose Jean's route.

" _Really_? Are you _sure_?"

"Positive," Eleanora said, in a tone which clearly said, _"shut up or die."_

Now Rose would've said for him to run. But Jean would have told him to keep going; he was doing so well!

"It's just that…you're so quiet…"

"God, just leave me alone!"

Sebastian fell silent and Eleanora was allowed to continue her thinking without conversationalist interruptions. After a while, she started to feel a bit guilty for snapping. She turned to him; he smiled.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning back into him. "I'm sorry…It's just that…Well…You know…"

"Quite all right," he said, cuddling her closer. "Don't worry about it."

Mmm, she smelled _niiice_ …He resisted the urge to lick her cheek. While he was positive that she tasted as good as she smelled, he was also pretty sure that she wouldn't appreciate such a gesture which bordered on the perverted.

"I've just been…thinking…"

"About what?"

"About nothing," she said and Sebastian thought that he had messed up again when she said, "Do you love me?"

"Darling, do you really doubt it?"

"It's a simple question which requires a simple yes-or-no answer." The look she gave him meant, _"I'm not in the mood for your romantic smart-assery."_

"Suppose I do," Sebastian said, nestling his head into her neck. "What will you do then?"

"How much?"

"I…beg your pardon?"

"I said, how much do you love me?"

"Oh-h-h…" he said, his mind straining for an accurate, but inoffensive, unit of measurement. "A…lot?"

"What?"

"Yes, a lot!"

Eleanora stared at him, as if that was an unsatisfactory answer.

"A…a lot, a lot?"

"But how _much_?"

"I just told you: a lot."

"How much is a 'lot?'"

"I don't know, but it's a lot." She was still giving him that look. "It's…a…very, really, muchly…lot?"

"I see," she sighed and turned away from him. He continued holding her, wondering if he had successfully answered her question. "How much do you think Drocell loves me?"

"Not a lot at all," he answered immediately. "I'm sure that he forgot all about you."

This technically wasn't a lie—if he didn't _know_ something, he couldn't really _lie_ about it, now could he?

"You think so?"

"I do."

"I don't."

He couldn't restrain a small, frustrated "tsk!" noise, which only made Eleanora glare up at him again.

"…Do you have a problem with that?"

Unfortunately, saying "no" would be a lie; he was forced to resort to another smile.

"Darling, why are you worrying about him _now_?" he asked. "He's with his Earl now. I'm sure that he's very happy. And _you're_ happy too, right?"

' _Please be happy, please be happy, please be happy, please…Please say that you're happy with me!'_

"I don't know," she said. "At first I thought that I was, but whenever I think of Drocell…"

"The solution, dearest, is to _not_ think of him at _all_."

"It's not that easy. You can't just turn your thoughts off and on like a faucet. If you were told to never think about me again, would you really be able to do it?"

"Of course not. I think about you all the time. Even when I'm sleeping, you're still present in my dreams."

She gave him another of those not-in-the-mood looks.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I just…I just feel so _guilty_ …I mean, I _am_ happy, but when I think about him…Am I being disloyal to him? I had told him that I loved him…And here I am! Screwing another man out of what little brains he has left…Do you think…Do you think that this is alright? That I…That I'm not being unfaithful?"

"Sweetheart, you _chose me_ over _him_. Of _course_ you would want to scr—that is, be with the man who you've chosen to be with. I'm sure that he doesn't mind."

"R-Really? Truly?"

"If he really loves you," Sebastian said, "or if he had ever loved you in the past, he would want you to be happy."

"Really?"

"Certainly. I mean, I know that, if you had chosen _him_ over _me_ , I would have still wished for your happiness." _'I might have also wished for his complete and utter annihilation, but…'_ "I'm sure that he feels the same way." He smiled down at her; she still didn't look convinced. "Eleanora," he said gently, "what's so unfaithful in wanting to be happy?"

Eleanora sat up and faced him, but she didn't speak. He waited patiently.

"…That's odd," she said. "You actually managed to make me feel better. Huh."

"I do my best."

He leaned in for a kiss, but she pulled away from him.

"N-No…Not tonight…Not right now. I don't think…that I can do it tonight."

"That's fine. But whenever you want to…" he tapped his lips, "I'll be ready and eager to oblige."

She didn't look sure.

"Eleanora," he said, "you know that all I've ever wanted is your happiness."

She smiled a bit at this. And then Ciel entered.

" _Finally_!" he sighed. "Do you _know_ how _hard_ it is to sneak around at night? What are you two doing?"

"Just talking, my Lord," Eleanora said.

" _Really_? _Just_ talking?"

"Of course. What else would we be doing?"

Ciel scowled, but he couldn't protest. They were just sitting across from each other on a couch. He had heard them talking before he had come in. They weren't even touching.

"Fine," he sighed and sat down across from them. Sebastian immediately rose up to prepare tea. "So, then, about this cricket game…"

"Actually, I've had some ideas about that," Eleanora said.

She didn't mind being interrupted in her heart-to-heart conversation with the butler. Plotting evil schemes was always a good way to keep one's mind off of things.


	39. Chapter 39

Eleanora loved sabotage. It was one of the few things which she was sure that she was good at.

The best part about sabotaging other teams to win a cricket game was that it helped keep her occupied. Her mind was so busy scheming and plotting that she didn't have much time to think about Drocell Vs. Sebastian: Round Two.

Unfortunately, she could only really plot and plan during the day. At night, she had to lie down and try to go to sleep, and that was when she had plenty of time and energy to think.

And think.

And think.

And feel so guilty she almost wanted to die.

And think.

And _think_.

And _THINK_.

She _had_ a hotel reservation, but she canceled it once she got a good look at her spouse, the professor. Now she just slept in the same bed with him, which was fine, if only he wasn't so _hot_. And that was "hot" in a bad way; he had a horrible habit of rolling over and trying to hug her in his sleep, and he had the body temperature of a sauna.

Aside from his unnatural heat, Eleanora didn't like sleeping in the same bed with him because looking at him returned the guilt tenfold. She would just roll over and look at him and feel guilty. He was so different from Drocell…He was handsome, but it was a cold, statuesque kind of beauty. Drocell had been a doll, but even he had seemed more human than Sebastian. Sometimes she was sure that she hated him. Sometimes she wished that she had died before she could marry him. That or have not survived the zombie cruise ship. Then all of her problems would have been solved. He would have been happy and she would've been happy, and they could've gone on their merry ways hating each other till the end of time.

But then, sometimes he would wake up and notice her looking and he would smile and kiss her cheek and ask her if she was okay. If she said that she wasn't, he would get up, no matter the hour, and bring her some tea. If she said that she was, he would kiss her again and lie back down, still staring at her, still smiling; and he wouldn't close his eyes again until she had lain down next to him and had closed them first. Whenever he did that, she didn't feel as if she hated him. She almost felt as if she liked him—as in, _really_ liked him.

But then she would remember Drocell again, and the guilt returned.

Sebastian tried to be understanding. He tried not to rush her and tried to be patient, only it was a bit hard for him to understand why she was feeling so bad about dumping the doll-freak. He was never sad to dispose of a piece of garbage. But he knew that she wouldn't have liked to hear that, so he just stayed quiet.

Ciel felt a bit sorry for her, but then again, if she was going through emotional turmoil, it made her more focused in her work. The big cricket game was just several days away, and they were _still_ unprepared!

Eleanora had finished planning the latest sabotage and had just sat back in her seat, wondering what else to do. She had other plans, but those required the young Master's approval, and he was busy at the moment. She glanced out the window, where Ciel was trying to throw a cricket ball at Sebastian and failing miserably. They wouldn't be done for about another three hours or so—the butler could be rather tough at times.

But what else was there for her to do? Except for think about Drocell and feel guilty, of course, but she didn't want to do it.

…Aaand she was doing it.

This was ridiculous. She couldn't spend the rest of her life like this! She needed help. She glanced out the window again—not the young Master; he was too young and knew absolutely nothing of love. Not the butler either; he was a good actor, but she could tell that he wasn't going to encourage her to run back to Drocell, even if it _was_ the right decision. And there was nobody else in the school that could help her…Everyone was just a dumber version of Ciel Phantomhive.

No, she needed a woman's help. And at the moment, only one woman was coming to mind.

There was a telephone in the butler's quarters; she got out her pocketbook, found the number, and hesitantly dialed it.

There was silence, and then a woman said,

 **"Michaeras domos; qui est hae?"**

"H-Hello?" Eleanora said. "Is…Is Rose there?"

" _Eleanora_! Of _course_ I'm here! What is it? What's going on? Oh, it's so _nice_ to hear you again! Hold on a moment; let me get Jean; he'll be so _happy_!"

"I, uh…Actually, I just wanted to talk to you right now…I need some advice."

"Well then! Sit down, get comfortable; tell me what's on your mind!"

"But…We're talking on the _telephone_ …"

"Doesn't mean we can't sit and be comfortable! Oh, I _wish_ that you were here…I would've made some cookies! How's my darling baby boy, by the way? Is he eating well?"

"He's fine…"

"Tell him to eat more! I'm sure he looks like a _skeleton_ by now! Maybe I should send something over…What do you think? Brownies or cake?"

Eleanora bit her lip to try to keep herself from laughing.

"Maybe both," Rose mused to herself. "And I'll also add a sausage or two. A growing boy needs his protein, after all! Now how many pies should I pack?"

"Actually, Rose…"

"Oh! Of course! I'm terribly sorry; I got distracted! What's on your mind, love?"

"Suppose," Eleanora hesitated again. How does one explain to the mother-in-law that you're in love with a man _other_ than her _son_? "Suppose you have two men, and both of them have their equal flaws and strengths. Which one would you choose?"

Rose was silent. Eleanora bit her lip, wondering if she was angry. But when she spoke next, her voice was just as kind and as friendly as ever.

"Back in my beauty queen days—back when I still competed, I mean—I had many, many suitors, some of which were rather desirable. Kind, handsome, rich demons…But I, of course, could only pick one. At the time, as you probably know, the Michaelis was the second most-powerful family in Hell, and the Elengedes—my family—was the third most-powerful. There was talk of uniting the two families through marriage, and I was the only candidate. And Jean…Well, you remember Jean. He's brash and loud and moody and quick-tempered…but he's also the most affectionate man I have ever met in my life. He's loving and loyal and he would do anything to make the people he loves happy—even let them go, if they want to be released. Lots of people think that Sebastian just inherited his looks and little else, but that's not so. He also inherited his rashness and his temper, and his adoring heart."

Eleanora glanced out the window again; the Earl was chasing after the cricket ball while the butler looked on in irritation. Then he looked up, noticed her, and smiled. She went back to the phone.

"In the end," Rose continued, "I chose to marry Jean. It was the best option, and, in the end, he was the best man."

"So…Your advice would be…?"

"Jean made me happy," Rose said. "He loved me. The other suitors, while charming and polite, didn't make me feel as loved as he did. So, my advice would be to choose the man who loves you beyond anything and everything—the one who would do anything for your happiness."

They talked for another hour after that. When they were finished, Eleanora sat and thought about Rose's words. Choose the man who would do anything for your happiness? But they _both_ would have done anything for her happiness. Drocell said so, and Sebastian…

Sebastian actually _did_ so.

This was a new thought entirely. Eleanora looked out the window, where another child was joining the Earl and Sebastian. Drocell had _said_ that he would make her happy, but then he had left for his Earl. And Sebastian?

Sebastian had given her painkillers after he had forced the contract on her. When she had fallen asleep on him, he had put his coat over her. He had looked after her, even when he had been "murdered." He had been patient when she had been afraid of him. When she had gotten sick at his parents' house, he had taken care of her. He had fought for her on that cruise ship. He had forgiven her, even when she had screwed up big time. He had always waited for her, even when she wasn't sure about her feelings. He hadn't minded her worries or her insecurities or her always blowing hot and cold…

Drocell had said a lot of pretty things. But Sebastian had always _acted_ on them.

She looked out at the scene again. Now _both_ children were running after their cricket balls and Sebastian was looking even _more_ annoyed. But he still noticed her, and just seeing her made him smile and made all of his irritation disappear.

 _"He's a nice man,"_ Eleanora thought. _"He's very sweet—in his weird, demonic way. He'll make some lucky woman_ very _happy…"_

 _"Oh shit,"_ she realized, _"_ I'M _that lucky woman."_

 _"Oh SHIT,"_ she realized again, _"I think that I…that I…"_

When Sebastian came back to his room later that evening, he was extraordinarily pleased to find that Eleanora was back to normal—her little regret about Drocell had completely passed.


	40. Chapter 40

Cricket is an ancient and noble game, so ancient and noble and beloved that it would be completely and absolutely unnecessary to go over any of the rules whatsoever, as _everyone_ in the whole entire world knows everything there is to know about cricket.

Even Ciel knew a thing or two about cricket, which really should give one an indication as to the great and gloriousness of the sport. Ciel was the direct opposite of "athletic" and had essentially negative interest in anything that involved running around and getting all sweaty. But it was he who had to teach Sebastian about the sport—before he came to the school, the butler had thought that "cricket" was just a little jumping, chirping insect that made both young Masters and callous wives scream in high C.

The first two teams playing were Red House—consisting entirely of the pretty boys of the school—and Blue House—Ciel's team. He sat on the sidelines and quietly watched his house fail miserably for two hours, and then there was a tea break. He actually did more during that so-called "break" than during the actual play, as he had to convince his team members to not give up. Quite a lot of them were getting discouraged, but Ciel knew that the fight hadn't even started. Red House wasn't a threat—not after his servants were done with them.

Sebastian—that is, Professor Michaelis—had vanished several minutes before the tea break and Eleanora had disappeared from her spot in the stands. But Ciel wasn't worried: he knew exactly where they were.

At the moment, Sebastian was just finishing making a pie and Eleanora was just finishing watching him making the pie with worry, playing with the buttons on her big coat.

"Are you _sure_ about putting it all in?" she asked as he moved by her. "I got the most powerful laxative in the drug store—that stuff could _kill_ you."

"Don't worry," he assured her. "Little boys are very resilient, particularly in the lower areas. I'm sure that they'll all be just fine."

He snuck outside, quickly swapped the meat pies on the Red House table, and went back to Eleanora so that she could help him change back into his professor outfit. Not that he really _needed_ assistance, of course; she just liked turning him into a professor and he liked whatever she liked, particularly when it involved a bit of kissing.

He arrived back on the field just in time to see all of the members of the Red House cricket team falling down to the ground, clutching their stomachs in pain.

The first team had forfeited. Blue House had won.

The second match was between Green House and Purple House—between the jocks and the school weirdos, essentially. Naturally the jocks won, and after another quick break, it was time for the final fight between Green House and Blue House. This was the big one—this was the one that Ciel had spent all those weeks preparing for.

He had several lines of defense to ensure a victory. Sebastian was Stage One. He quickly looked over at his butler, who was already warming up the school orchestra.

The idea was as follows: one could theoretically hit the ball if one swung the bat—hypothetically, any swing could hit any ball, as long as the ball was within certain limits. All the batter had to do was swing, and there was a good chance that the bat would hit the ball.

Hence the orchestra. Ciel knew that his nonathletic teammates would panic about hitting the ball at the right time, so he decided to skip all the stress and tell them to just hit the ball on a certain musical signal: the crashing of the cymbals.

It worked very well for quite some time, and then Ciel spotted the principal—the source of their information; the one that could solve the Queen's mystery for them.

He looked pointedly over at Sebastian, who nodded and fled the orchestra to give pursuit. As expected, the Blue House team immediately started failing without their musical cue.

But winning a game wasn't just about making your team win: it was also about making the _other_ team _lose_. And that's where Stage Two: Eleanora came in.

As soon as she saw the butler run off in pursuit of the principal, she sauntered over to the orchestra and gave the boys her best smile, fanning herself a bit with her hand.

" _Excuuuse_ me," she purred, "but it's so _hot_ out here and I'm feeling a little _faint_ …Would you _kindly_ allow me to sit here, in the shade?"

The musicians had no objections, so Eleanora got one of their chairs and sat a bit aways from them, waiting for the song they were currently playing to end.

Sebastian had quickly forced responsibility on another student, who was now panicking a bit as the orchestra finished their song. But luckily, Mr. Michaelis had left another piece of music out for them to play. The student made sure that all of the instruments were on the same page, and then he started them up.

This song was…different from the other songs. It was…louder. Gaudier, somehow. The musicians were so focused on the oddness of the song that they didn't even notice that Eleanora had taken off her coat, revealing a _much_ more revealing outfit, and had started to dance.

In her youth, she had been occasionally forced to resort to dancing at the seediest of taverns. Burlesque had paid the bills, and she still knew a couple of the dances. This one involved a chair and a damned lot of legs, both of which she luckily had.

Most of the people on the Blue House team did not have very good eyesight, and so they were unaffected by her dance. Unfortunately for the Green House, they were not.

Sebastian had to force himself not to look. Eleanora had demonstrated her dancing skills to them beforehand, and he had almost died. The young Master had been unaffected—probably because he was too young, and so didn't understand the limitless appeal of chest, legs, and suggestive hip-moving.

Stage Two was just a temporary defense. A young woman winking and blowing kisses at a bunch of student cricketers didn't go unnoticed for very long. Soon Eleanora was being told to leave the field, which she did regretfully, with one last kiss to the last batter, who missed the ball completely from shock and embarrassment.

Stage One had been about swinging the bat, thus hitting the ball. Stage Three was about _not_ swinging the bat, therefore hitting the ball. This was accomplished by strategically placing the bat on the ground in front of the wickets. In this way, they were able to secure a couple more points—or at least not allowing the other team to get more points—until Sebastian returned, looking very disappointed.

The principal had disappeared right under his fingers. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing, but for now, all he could do was go back to the game. He wasn't very happy with himself, but Eleanora was still wearing her little costume, and a couple of kisses quickly revived his previous good mood.

People were starting to get bored with the whole bat-in-front-of-the-wickets gimmick. Ciel was getting tired as well—he wanted it all to be _done_ with, already. And so they went on to Stage Four.

Stage Four, like the other Stages, was genius in its simplicity. All he had to do was make all of his teammates stand around the batter, and then throw the ball in that extra-special way which he had spent _thousands_ of _agonizing_ hours practicing, aiming the ball for the batter's face. The batter would defend himself with the bat, and the other teammates would catch it, resulting in an out.

And _this_ went on for some time until the audience grew restless and started questioning the fairness of his tactics. The show must go on, and it was high time to finish this sporting nonsense. So then the Blue House prefect stepped up: Stage Five of the plan.

The prefect, like Ciel, had spent countless hours practicing throwing the ball a certain way. Only, unlike Ciel's ball, which aimed for the batter's face, the prefect's ball aimed for the wickets. They were able to get one more out in this way, but Green House was still ahead…

One more ball. One more ball to throw, to decide everything, to decide either victory or defeat for the Blue House…The prefect prepared himself, threw the ball with all of his might, the batter prepared to swing; everyone was holding their breaths…

And the batter swung straight into Ciel Phantomhive's head.

He was nothing but a perfect gentleman; as soon as he realized that he had accidentally hurt someone, he immediately whirled around, asking if he was okay, but Ciel ignored him completely. He grabbed the ball, which had conveniently landed near him, and threw it at the wickets.

They crashed to the ground. Blue House had won.

The crowd went wild; the Blue House ran out to meet Ciel and cheer and scream and Eleanora was on the sidelines, politely clapping, while Sebastian ran out to attend to his injured Master. They passed by the maid on the way to the infirmary, where all three of them shared a secret smile. Stage Six: give the prefect a lighter ball, thus slightly changing the angle of everything, and ensuring a Blue House victory.

Just as planned.


	41. Chapter 41

The cricket tournament was always followed by a magnificent boat parade, where the winning team was parading around in front of the Queen. It was quite the honor, and Ciel probably would have looked forward to it if it wasn't on a boat. He had never been particularly fond of boats, and the incident on the cruise ship hadn't increased his affection. Perhaps the ship experience had traumatized him for life, and he would forever be cursed with the irrational fear of boats and other water-based methods of transportation?

But no. He didn't feel a surge of panic upon seeing the little boat, bobbing a bit in the water. He got onto the thing just fine and didn't want to jump off when his teammates set off and started rowing towards Windsor. Then again, maybe he didn't want to jump off because he couldn't swim.

Eleanora wasn't present at the actual parade. The butler had had to leave a bit early because of some problem with the young Master's wardrobe, and he had left her a little note asking her to meet him on a little hill, overlooking the Thames. They could watch the ceremony from there and miss all the crowds and earsplitting cheering.

He was waiting for her when she arrived. He had spread out a little moonlit picnic and kissed her hand when she approached him. He poured out some of his special nonalcoholic unholy wine and they made several toasts: to the successful cricket victory, to sexy professor costumes, to the fact that the young Master was several kilometers away from them on a boat.

It was a beautiful night. Eleanora sighed and rested her head on Sebastian's shoulder; he sat back and kissed her head. She looked up at him and smiled; he smiled back and thought about how lovely she was, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He thought about how lucky he was to be bound to such a gem for all eternity. He felt his heart swelling up with a wonderfully warm feeling, a feeling which he had come to recognize whenever he was with her.

"Eleanora," he said, cuddling her closer to him, "I love you." He paused, considering. "I never, in all of my years, thought that I would say _that_ to a human."

Eleanora's smile slowly disappeared. But his smile just widened.

"You don't have to say anything right now," he said. "I just wanted you to know that, I do love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone. And you don't have to say it back to me right now. I don't mind if you're still confused or even if you still hate me—I know that you'll say it eventually. And I can wait until you're ready to love me back. And even if you'll never be ready, I'll still be waiting." He beamed at her, wondering what she would say.

Eleanora was silent for a time. Then she glared up at him.

"Now, isn't that just _like_ you?" she scowled. "You just _always have_ to play the hero. You'll wait forever for your cute little damsel in distress, is that right? Even if I _never_ return your feelings, is that it?"

"Well…Yes." He gave her a confused smile. "Is…Is that a problem?"

"Damn _right_ it's a problem! Why are you always so _arrogant_? You just go around _assuming_ things about people, and then you say the most _idiotic_ of things. What if I've been ready for several days now? What if I've been ready for hours? What if I'm ready right _now_? What will you do _then_?"

"Are you ready? Really?" He grabbed her hands and stared deep into her eyes. "Really?"

Eleanora scoffed and looked away.

"Of course I am," she said, and he could see that she was blushing, despite making every effort to hide it.

"Then say it," he said huskily. "Please say it now—if you're truly ready."

"I'm not going to scream it out to the world, if that's what you're waiting for."

"Then whisper it."

"First turn around and close your eyes."

He did so. He felt her hand nervously clenching over his'. Then he felt her breath tickle his ear as she breathed,

 _"I—love—you."_

She then released his hand and looked away again, blushing even more furiously than before.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, gazing at her seriously. "Do you _really_ mean it?"

"If I didn't mean it, would I have said it? You just can't lie about shit like that, you know."

"So…You love me?"

"I already said that I did, didn't I? Or have you gone deaf in your demonic old age?"

"Oh, Eleanora," he whispered. He pulled her closer and she didn't resist; she smiled up at him again and they kissed. "Eleanora, I love you so much…"

"I know," she said quietly. "I love you too…"

They were so engrossed in another kiss that they didn't even hear the screams as the boat on the Thames rolled over, or the laughter that followed the scene. They didn't see the young Master grab the side of the overturned boat and haul himself partially out of the water, spluttering. They didn't hear and they didn't notice and they didn't care.

But Ciel noticed. After he had finished coughing, he had looked around at the crowd, wondering where his butler was and why wasn't he coming to help him, or at least prepare to. And then he noticed Sebastian and Eleanora sitting in the distance, their kiss illuminated by the fireworks which lit up the sky.

 _"Oh,"_ Ciel thought as he stared at them. _"Isn't that nice?"_

This idea was quickly overthrown by another, far more urgent one:

 _"Grell is going to kill her."_

THE END

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please look up my other stories! Thanks again!_


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